NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 


BOOKS  BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

THE  COURAGE  OF  CAPTAIN  PLUM 

THE  COURAGE  OF  MARGE  o'DOONB 

THE  HONOR  OF  THE  BIG  SNOWS 

THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 

THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

THE  DANGER  TRAIL 

PHILIP  STEELE 

THE  GREAT  LAKES 

FLOWER  OF  THE  NORTH 

ISOBEL 

KAZAN 

GOD'S  COUNTRY — AND  THE  WOMAN 
THE  HUNTED  WOMAN 

THE  GRIZZLY  KING 
BAREE,  SON  OF  KAZAN 


•  • 

•  °: 


N&efra  sp\d  *IVIiki  stood,  a  grown  wolf  would  have 
patis'e'cl  and  turned  back  ...  For  here,  in  spite  of  the 
stillness  and  the  gloom,  there  was  life  .  .  .  Like  the 
imps  of  muknedoo,  the  monster  owls  looked  down,  gath- 
ering their  slow  wits — and  waiting." 


NOMADS 

OF  THE  NORTH 


A  Story  of  Romance  and  Adventure 
Under  the  Open  Stars 

BY 
JAMES  OLIVER  CURWOOD 


CHA&LE&  'LIVINGSTON  BULL 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLED  AY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1919 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  BY 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

ALL   BIGHTS   RESERVED,    INCLUDING   THAT    OF 

TRANSLATION  INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES, 

INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


COPTBIQHT,  1918,  1919,  BT  THE  BSD  BOOK  CORPORATION 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

'Where  Neewa  and  Miki  stood,  a  grown  wolf 
would  have  paused  and  turned  back  . 
For  here,  in  spite  of  the  stillness  and  the 
gloom,  there  was  life."    (Seepage 92)     .     Frontispiece 


FACING  PAGE 


"Neewa's  little  eyes  glared.  Was  that  ill- join  ted, 
lop-eared  offspring  of  the  man-beast  an 
enemy,  too? .  42 

"Miki  swung  his  other  paw  around  and  caught 
Neewa  a  jolt  in  the  eye.  This  was  too  much, 
even  from  a  friend,  and  with  a  sudden  snarl 
Neewa  bounced  out  of  his  nest  and  clinched 
with  the  pup." 56 

"Nanette  began  to  bring  the  baby  out  with  her, 
and  in  his  joy  Miki  whimpered  and  wagged 
his  tail  and  grovelled  in  his  worship  before 
these  two"  216 


912711 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

CHAPTER  ONE 

IT  WAS  late  in  the  month  of  March,  at  the  dying- 
out  of  the  Eagle  Moon,  that  Neewa  the  black 
bear  cub  got  his  first  real  look  at  the  world. 
Noozak,  his  mother,  was  an  old  bear,  and  like  an 
old  person  she  was  filled  with  rheumatics  and  the 
desire  to  sleep  late.  So  instead  of  taking  a  short 
and  ordinary  nap  of  three  months  this  particular 
winter  of  little  Neewa's  birth  she  slept  four,  which, 
made  Neewa,  who  was  born  while  his  mother  was 
sound  asleep,  a  little  over  two  months  old  instead 
of  six  weeks  when  they  came  out  of  den. 

In  choosing  this  den  Noozak  had  gone  to  a  cavern 
at  the  crest  of  a  high,  barren  ridge,  and  from  this 
point  Neewa  first  looked  down  into  the  valley.  For 
a  time,  coming  out  of  darkness  into  sunlight,  he 
was  blinded.  He  could  hear  and  smell  and  feel 
many  things  before  he  could  see.  And  Noozak,  as 

3 


4  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

though  puzzled  at  finding  warmth  and  sunshine  in 
plate  of  cold  and  darkness,  stood  for  many  minutes 
sniffing  the  wind  and  looking  down  upon  her  domain. 

For  two  weeks  an  early  spring  had  been  working 
its  miracle  of  change  in  that  wonderful  country  of 
the  northland  between  Jackson's  Knee  and  the 
Shamattawa  River,  and  from  north  to  south  be- 
tween God's  Lake  and  the  Churchill. 

It  was  a  splendid  world.  From  the  tall  pinnacle 
of  rock  on  which  they  stood  it  looked  like  a  great 
sea  of  sunlight,  with  only  here  and  there  patches  of 
white  snow  where  the  winter  winds  had 'piled  it 
deep.  Their  ridge  rose  up  out  of  a  great  valley.  On 
all  sides  of  them,  as  far  as  a  man's  eye  could  have 
reached,  there  were  blue  and  black  patches  of  forest, 
the  shimmer  of  lakes  still  partly  frozen,  the  sunlit 
sparkle  of  rivulet  and  stream,  and  the  greening  open 
spaces  out  of  which  rose  the  perfumes  of  the  earth. 
These  smells  drifted  up  like  tonic  and  food  to  the 
nostrils  of  Noozak  the  big  bear.  Down  there  the 
earth  was  already  swelling  with  life.  The  buds  on 
the  poplars  were  growing  fat  and  near  the  bursting 
point;  the  grasses  were  sending  out  shoots  tender 
and  sweet;  the  camas  were  filling  with  juice;  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  5 

shooting  stars,  the  dog-tooth  violets,  and  the  spring 
beauties  were  thrusting  themselves  up  into  the  warm 
glow  of  the  sun,  inviting  Noozak  and  Neewa  to  the 
feast.  All  these  things  Noozak  smelled  with  the 
experience  and  the  knowledge  of  twenty  years  of 
life  behind  her — the  delicious  aroma  of  the  spruce 
and  the  jackpine;  the  dank,  sweet  scent  of  water-lily 
roots  and  swelling  bulbs  that  came  from  a  thawed- 
out  fen  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge;  and  over 'all  these 
things,  overwhelming  their  individual  sweetnesses  in  a 
still  greater  thrill  of  life,  the  smell  of  the  heart  itself! 
And  Neewa  smelled  them.  His  amazed  little  body 
trembled  and  thrilled  for  the  first  time  with  the  ex- 
citement of  life.  A  moment  before  in  darkness,  he 
found  himself  now  in  a  wonderland  of  which  he  had 
never  so  much  as  had  a  dream.  In  these  few  min- 
utes Nature  was  at  work  upon  him.  He  possessed 
no  knowledge,  but  instinct  was  born  within  him. 
He  knew  this  was  his  world,  that  the  sun  and  the 
warmth  were  for  him,  and  that  the  sweet  things  of 
the  earth  were  inviting  him  into  his  heritage.  He 
puckered  up  his  little  brown  nose  and  sniffed  the  air, 
and  the  pungency  of  everything  that  was  sweet 
and  to  be  yearned  for  came  to  him. 


6  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

And  he  listened.  His  pointed  ears  were  pricked 
forward,  and  up  to  him  came  the  drone  of  a  wakening 
earth.  Even  the  roots  of  the  grasses  must  have  been 
)  singing  in  their  joy,  for  all  through  that  sunlit  valley 
there  was  the  low  and  murmuring  music  of  a  country 
that  was  at  peace  because  it  was  empty  of  men. 
Everywhere  was  the  rippling  sound  of  running  water, 
and  he  heard  strange  sounds  that  he  knew  was  life; 
the  twittering  of  a  rock-sparrow,  the  silver-toned 
aria  of  a  black-throated  thrush  down  in  the  fen,  the 
shrill  paean  of  a  gorgeously  coloured  Canada  jay  ex- 
ploring for  a  nesting  place  in  a  brake  of  velvety  bal- 
sam. And  then,  far  over  his  head,  a  screaming  cry 
that  made  him  shiver.  It  was  instinct  again  that  told 
him  in  that  cry  was  danger.  Noozak  looked  up,  and 
saw  the  shadow  of  Upisk,  the  great  eagle,  as  it  flung 
itself  between  the  sun  and  the  earth.  Neewa  saw 
the  shadow,  and  cringed  nearer  to  his  mother. 

And  Noozak — so  old  that  she  had  lost  half  her 
teeth,  so  old  that  her  bones  ached  on  damp  and 
chilly  nights,  and  her  eyesight  was  growing  dim — 
was  still  not  so  old  that  she  did  not  look  down  with 
growing  exultation  upon  what  she  saw.  Her  mind 
was  travelling  beyond  the  mere  valley  in  which  they 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  7 

had  wakened.  Off  there  beyond  the  walls  of  forest, 
beyond  the  farthest  lake,  beyond  the  river  and  the 
plain,  were  the  illimitable  spaces  which  gave  her 
home.  To  her  came  dully  a  sound  uncaught  by 
Neewa — the  almost  unintelligible  rumble  of  the  great 
waterfall.  It  was  this,  and  the  murmur  of  a  thou- 
sand trickles  of  running  water,  and  the  soft  wind 
breathing  down  in  the  balsam  and  spruce  that  put 
the  music  of  spring  into  the  air. 

At  last  Noozak  heaved  a  great  breath  out  of  her 
lungs  and  with  a  grunt  to  Neewa  began  to  lead  the 
way  slowly  down  among  the  rocks  to  the  foot  of  the 
ridge. 

In  the  golden  pool  of  the  valley  it  was  even  warmer 
than  on  the  crest  of  the  ridge.  Noozak  went  straight 
to  the  edge  of  the  slough.  Half  a  dozen  rice  birds 
rose  with  a  whir  of  wings  that  made  Neewa  almost 
upset  himself.  Noozak  paid  no  attention  to  them. 
A  loon  let  out  a  squawky  protest  at  Noozak's  soft- 
footed  appearance,  and  followed  it  up  with  a  raucous 
screech  that  raised  the  hair  on  Neewa's  spine.  And 
Noozak  paid  no  attention  to  this.  Neewa  observed 
these  things.  His  eye  was  on  her,  and  instinct  had 
already  winged  his  legs  with  the  readiness  to  run 


8  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

if  his  mother  should  give  the  signal.  In  his  funny 
little  head  it  was  developing  very  quickly  that  his 
mother  was  a  most  wonderful  creature.  She  was  by 
all  odds  the  biggest  thing  alive — that  is,  the  biggest 
that  stood  on  legs,  and  moved.  He  was  confident 
of  this  for  a  space  of  perhaps  two  minutes,  when  they 
came  to  the  end  of  the  fen.  And  here  was  a  sudden 
snort,  a  crashing  of  bracken,  the  floundering  of  a 
huge  body  through  knee-deep  mud,  and  a  monstrous 
bull  moose,  four  times  as  big  as  Noozak,  set  off  in 
lively  flight.  Neewa's  eyes  all  but  popped  from  his 
head.  And  still  Noozak  paid  no  attention  ! 

It  was  then  that  Neewa  crinkled  up  his  tiny  nose 
and  snarled,  just  as  he  had  snarled  at  Noozak's 
ears  and  hair  and  at  sticks  he  had  worried  in  the 
black  cavern.  A  glorious  understanding  dawned 
upon  him.  He  could  snarl  at  anything  he  wanted 
to  snarl  at,  no  matter  how  big.  For  everything 
ran  away  from  Noozak  his  mother. 

All  through  this  first  glorious  day  Neewa  was  dis> 
covering  things,  and  with  each  hour  it  was  more  and 
more  impressed  upon  him  that  his  mother  was  the 
unchallenged  mistress  of  all  this  new  and  sunlit 
domain. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  9 

Noozak  was  a  thoughtful  old  mother  of  a  bear  who 
had  reared  fifteen  or  eighteen  families  in  her  time, 
and  she  travelled  very  little  this  first  day  in  order 
that  Neewa's  tender  feet  might  toughen  up  a  bit. 
They  scarcely  left  the  fen,  except  to  go  into  a  near- 
by clump  of  trees  where  Noozak  used  her  claws  to 
shred  a  spruce  that  they  might  get  at  the  juice  and 
slimy  substance  just  under  the  bark.  Neewa  liked 
this  dessert  after  their  feast  of  roots  and  bulbs,  and 
tried  to  claw  open  a  tree  on  his  own  account.  By 
mid-afternoon  Noozak  had  eaten  until  her  sides 
bulged  out,  and  Neewa  himself  —  between  his 
mother's  milk  and  the  many  odds  and  ends  of  other 
things — looked  like  an  over-filled  pod.  Selecting 
a  spot  where  the  declining  sun  made  a  warm  oven 
of  a  great  white  rock,  lazy  old  Noozak  lay  down  for 
a  nap,  while  Neewa,  wandering  about  in  quest  of 
an  adventure  of  his  own,  came  face  to  face  with  a 
ferocious  bug. 

The  creature  was  a  giant  wood-beetle  two  inches 
long.  Its  two  battling  pincers  were  jet  black,  and 
curved  like  hooks  of  iron.  It  was  a  rich  brown  in 
colour  and  in  the  sunlight  its  metallic  armour  shone 
in  a  dazzling  splendour.  Neewa,  squatted  flat  on 


10  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

his  belly,  eyed  it  with  a  swiftly  beating  heart.  The 
beetle  was  not  more  than  a  foot  away,  and  advancing! 
That  was  the  curious  and  rather  shocking  part  of 
it.  It  was  the  first  living  thing  he  had  met  with  that 
day  that  had  not  run  away.  As  it  advanced  slowly  on 
its  two  rows  of  legs  the  beetle  made  a  clicking  sound 
that  Neewa  heard  quite  distinctly.  With  the  fight- 
ing blood  of  his  father,  Soominitik,  nerving  him  on 
to  the  adventure  he  thrust  out  a  hesitating  paw,  and 
instantly  Chegawasse,  the  beetle,  took  upon  himself 
a  most  ferocious  aspect.  His  wings  began  humming 
like  a  buzz-saw,  his  pincers  opened  until  they  could 
have  taken  in  a  man's  finger,  and  he  vibrated  on  his 
legs  until  it  looked  as  though  he  might  be  performing 
some  sort  of  a  dance.  Neewa  jerked  his  paw  back 
and  after  a  moment  or  two  Chegawasse  calmed  him- 
self and  again  began  to  advance: 

Neewa  did  not  know,  of  course,  that  the  beetle's 
field  of  vision  ended  about  four  inches  from  the  end 
of  his  nose;  the  situation,  consequently,  was  appalling. 
But  it  was  never  born  in  a  son  of  a  father  like  Soom- 
initik to  run  from  a  bug,  even  at  nine  weeks  of  age. 
Desperately  he  thrust  out  his  paw  again,  and  unfor- 
tunately for  him  one  of  his  tiny  claws  got  a  half 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  11 

Nelson  on  the  beetle  and  held  Chegawasse  on  his 
shining  back  so  that  he  could  neither  buzz  nor  click. 
A  great  exultation  swept  through  Neewa.  Inch  by 
inch  he  drew  his  paw  in  until  the  beetle  was  with- 
in reach  of  his  sharp  little  teeth.  Then  he  smelled 
of  him. 

That  was  Chegawasse's  opportunity.  The  pincers 
closed  and  Noozak's  slumbers  were  disturbed  by  a 
sudden  bawl  of  agony.  When  she  raised  her  head 
Neewa  was  rolling  about  as  if  in  a  fit.  He  was 
scratching  and  snarling  and  spitting.  Noozak  eyed 
him  speculatively  for  some  moments,  then  reared 
herself  slowly  and  went  to  him.  With  one  big  paw 
she  rolled  him  over — and  saw  Chegawasse  firmly 
and  determinedly  attached  to  her  offspring's  nose. 
Flattening  Neewa  on  his  back  so  that  he  could  not 
move  she  seized  the  beetle  between  her  teeth,  bit 
slowly  until  Chegawasse  lost  his  hold,  and  then  swal- 
lowed him. 

From  then  until  dusk  Neewa  nursed  his  sore  nose. 
A  little  before  dark  Noozak  curled  herself  up  against 
the  big  rock,  and  Neewa  took  his  supper.  Then 
he  made  himself  a  nest  in  the  crook  of  her  big,  warm 
forearm.  In  spite  of  his  smarting  nose  he  was  a 


12  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

happy  bear,  and  at  the  end  of  his  first  day  he  felt 
very  brave  and  very  fearless,  though  he  was  but 
nine  weeks  old.  He  had  come  into  the  world,  he  had 
looked  upon  many  things,  and  if  he  had  not  con- 
quered he  at  least  had  gone  gloriously  through  the 
day. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

f^  •  ^HAT  night  Neewa  had  a  hard  attack  of 
Mistu-puyew,  or  stomach-ache.  Imagine  a 
'  -*^  nursing  baby  going  direct  from  its  mother's 
breast  to  a  beefsteak!  That  was  what  Neewa  had 
done.  Ordinarily  he  would  not  have  begun  nibbling 
at  solid  foods  for  at  least  another  month,  but  nature 
seemed  deliberately  at  work  in  a  process  of  intensive 
education  preparing  him  for  the  mighty  and  unequal 
struggle  which  he  would  have  to  put  up  a  little  later. 
For  hours  Neewa  moaned  and  wailed,  and  Noozak 
muzzled  his  bulging  little  belly  with  her  nose,  until 
finally  he  vomited  and  was  better. 

After  that  he  slept»  When  he  awoke  he  was 
startled  by  opening  his  eyes  full  into  the  glare  of  a 
great  blaze  of  fire.  Yesterday  he  had  seen  the  sun, 
golden  and  shimmering  and  far  away.  But  this  was 
the  first  time  he  had  seen  it  come  up  over  the  edge 
of  the  world  on  a  spring  morning  in  the  Northland. 
It  was  as  red  as  blood,  and  as  he  stared  it  rose  steadily 

13 


14  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

and  swiftly  until  the  flat  side  of  it  rounded  out  and 
it  was  a  huge  ball  of  something.  At  first  he  thought 
it  was  Life — some  monstrous  creature  sailing  up 
over  the  forest  toward  them — and  he  turned  with 
a  whine  of  enquiry  to  his  mother.  Whatever  it  was, 
Noozak  was  unafraid.  Her  big  head  was  turned 
toward  it,  and  she  was  blinking  her  eyes  in  solemn 
comfort.  It  was  then  that  Neewa  began  to  feel 
the  pleasing  warmth  of  the  red  thing,  and  in  spite 
of  his  nervousness  he  began  to  purr  in  the  glow  of  it. 
From  red  the  sun  turned  swiftly  to  gold,  and  the 
whole  valley  was  transformed  once  more  into  a  warm 
and  pulsating  glory  of  life. 

For  two  weeks  after  this  first  sunrise  in  Neewa's 
life  Noozak  remained  near  the  ridge  and  the  slough. 
Then  came  the  day,  when  Neewa  was  eleven  weeks 
old,  that  she  turned  her  nose  toward  the  distant  black 
forests  and  began  the  summer's  peregrination. 
Neewa's  feet  had  lost  their  tenderness,  and  he 
weighed  a  good  six  pounds.  This  was%  pretty  good 
considering  that  he  had  only  weighed  twelve  ounces 
at  birth. 

From  the  day  when  Noozak  set  off  on  her  wander- 
ing trek  Neewa's  real  adventures  began.  In  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  15 

dark  and  mysterious  caverns  of  the  forests  there 
were  places  where  the  snow  still  lay  unsoftened  by 
the  sun,  and  for  two  days  Neewa  yearned  and  whined 
for  the  sunlit  valley.  They  passed  the  waterfall, 
where  Neewa  looked  for  the  first  time  on  a  rushing 
torrent  of  water.  Deeper  and  darker  and  gloomier 
grew  the  forest  Noozak  was  penetrating.  In  this 
forest  Neewa  received  his  first  lessons  in  hunting. 
Noozak  was  now  well  in  the  "bottoms"  between  the 
Jackson's  Knee  and  Shamattawa  waterway  divides, 
a  great  hunting  ground  for  bears  in  the  early  spring. 
When  awake  she  was  tireless  in  her  quest  for  food, 
and  was  constantly  digging  in  the  earth,  or  turning 
over  stones  and  tearing  rotting  logs  and  stumps  into 
pieces.  The  little  gray  wood-mice  were  her  piece 
de  resistance,  small  as  they  were,  and  it  amazed 
Neewa  to  see  how  quick  his  clumsy  old  mother  could 
be  when  one  of  these  little  creatures  was  revealed. 
There  were  times  when  Noozak  captured  a  whole 
family  before  they  could  escape.  And  to  these  were 
added  frogs  and  toads,  still  partly  somnambulent; 
many  ants,  curled  up  as  if  dead,  in  the  heart  of  rot- 
ting logs;  and  occasional  bumble-bees,  wasps,  and 
hornets.  Now  and  then  Neewa  took  a  nibble  at 


16  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

these  things.  On  the  third  day  Noozak  uncovered 
a  solid  mass  of  hibernating  vinegar  ants  as  large  as 
a  man's  two  fists,  and  frozen  solid.  Neewa  ate  a 
quantity  of  these,  and  the  sweet,  vinegary  flavour 
of  them  was  delicious  to  his  palate. 

As  the  days  progressed,  and  living  things  began 
to  crawl  out  from  under  logs  and  rocks,  Neewa  dis- 
covered the  thrill  and  excitement  of  hunting  on  his 
own  account.  He  encountered  a  second  beetle,  and 
killed  it.  He  killed  his  first  wood-mouse.  Swiftly 
there  were  developing  in  him  the  instincts  of  Soomin- 
itik,  his  scrap-loving  old  father,  who  lived  three  or 
four  valleys  to  the  north  of  their  own,  and  who  never 
missed  an  opportunity  to  get  into  a  fight.  At  four 
months  of  age,  which  was  late  in  May,  Neewa  was 
eating  many  things  that  would  have  killed  most 
cubs  of  his  age,  and  there  wasn't  a  yellow  streak  in 
him  from  the  tip  of  his  saucy  little  nose  to  the  end  of 
his  stubby  tail.  He  weighed  nine  pounds  at  this 
date  and  was  as  black  as  a  tar-baby. 

It  was  early  in  June  that  the  exciting  event  occurred 
which  brought  about  the  beginning  of  the  big  change 
in  Neewa's  life,  and  it  was  on  a  day  so  warm  and 
mellow  with  sunshine  that  Noozak  started  in  right 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  17 

after  dinner  to  take  her  afternoon  nap.  They  were 
out  of  the  lower  timber  country  now,  and  were  in  a 
valley  through  which  a  shallow  stream  wriggled 
and  twisted  around  white  sand-bars  and  between 
pebbly  shores.  Neewa  was  sleepless.  He  had  less 
desire  than  ever  to  waste  a  glorious  afternoon  in 
napping.  With  his  little  round  eyes  he  looked  out 
on  a  wonderful  world,  and  found  it  calling  to  him. 
He  looked  at  his  mother,  and  whined.  Experience 
told  him  that  she  was  dead  to  the  world  for  hours 
to  come,  unless  he  tickled  her  foot  or  nipped  her  ear, 
and  then  she  would  only  rouse  herself  enough  to 
growl  at  him.  He  was  tired  of  that.  He  yearned 
for  something  more  exciting,  and  with  his  mind  sud- 
denly made  up  he  set  off  in  quest  of  adventure. 

In  that  big  world  of  green  and  golden  colours  he 
was  a  little  black  ball  nearly  as  wide  as  he  was  long. 
He  went  down  to  the  creek,  and  looked  back.  He 
could  still  see  his  mother.  Then  his  feet  paddled 
in  the  soft  white  sand  of  a  long  bar  that  edged  the 
shore,  and  he  forgot  Noozak.  He  went  to  the  end 
of  the  bar,  and  turned  up  on  the  green  shore  where 
the  young  grass  was  like  velvet  under  his  paws. 
Here  he  began  turning  over  small  stones  for  ants. 


18  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

He  chased  a  chipmunk  that  ran  a  close  and  furious 
race  with  him  for  twenty  seconds.  A  little  later  a 
huge  snow-shoe  rabbit  got  up  almost  under  his  nose, 
and  he  chased  that  until  in  a  dozen  long  leaps  Wapoos 
disappeared  in  a  thicket.  Neewa  wrinkled  up  his 
nose  and  emitted  a  squeaky  snarl.  Never  had  Soo- 
minitik's  blood  run  so  riotously  within  him.  He 
wanted  to  get  hold  of  something.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  was  yearning  for  a  scrap.  He  was  like 
a  small  boy  who  the  day  after  Christmas  has  a  pair 
of  boxing  gloves  and  no  opponent.  He  sat  down 
and  looked  about  him  querulously,  still  wrinkling 
his  nose  and  snarling  defiantly.  He  had  the  whole 
world  beaten.  He  knew  that.  Everything  was 
afraid  of  his  mother.  Everything  was  afraid  of  him. 
It  was  disgusting — this  lack  of  something  alive  for 
an  ambitious  young  fellow  to  fight.  After  all,  the 
world  was  rather  tame. 

He  set  off  at  a  new  angle,  came  around  the  edge 
of  a  huge  rock,  and  suddenly  stopped. 

From  behind  the  other  end  of  the  rock  protruded 
a  huge  hind  paw.  For  a  few  moments  Neewa  sat 
still,  eying  it  with  a  growing  anticipation.  This 
time  he  would  give  his  mother  a  nip  that  would 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  19 

waken  her  for  good!  He  would  rouse  her  to  the 
beauty  and  the  opportunities  of  this  day  if  there  was 
any  rouse  in  him!  So  he  advanced  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously, picked  out  a  nice  bare  spot  on  the  paw,  and 
sank  his  little  teeth  in  it  to  the  gums. 

There  followed  a  roar  that  shook  the  earth.  Now 
it  happened  that  the  paw  did  not  belong  to  Noozak, 
but  was  the  personal  property  of  Makoos,  an  old 
he-bear  of  unlovely  disposition  and  malevolent 
temper.  But  in  him  age  had  produced  a  grouchiness 
that  was  not  at  all  like  the  grandmotherly  peculi- 
arities of  old  Noozak.  Makoos  was  on  his  feet 
fairly  before  Neewa  realized  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake.  He  was  not  only  an  old  bear  and  a  grouchy 
bear,  but  he  was  also  a  hater  of  cubs.  More  than 
once  in  his  day  he  had  committed  the  crime  of  can- 
nibalism. He  was  what  the  Indian  hunter  calls 
uchan — a  bad  bear,  an  eater  of  his  own  kind,  and  the 
instant  his  enraged  eyes  caught  sight  of  Neewa  he 
let  out  another  roar. 

At  that  Neewa  gathered  his  fat  little  legs  under 
his  belly  and  was  off  like  a  shot.  Never  before  in  his 
life  had  he  run  as  he  ran  now.  Instinct  told  him 
that  at  last  he  had  met  something  which  was  not 


20  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

afraid  of  him,  and  that  he  was  in  deadly  peril.  He 
made  no  choice  of  direction,  for  now  that  he  had 
made  this  mistake  he  had  no  idea  where  he  would 
find  his  mother.  He  could  hear  Makoos  coming  after 
him,  and  as  he  ran  he  set  up  a  bawling  that  was  filled 
with  a  wild  and  agonizing  prayer  for  help.  That 
cry  reached  the  faithful  old  Noozak.  In  an  instant 
she  was  on  her  feet — and  just  in  time.  Like  a  round 
black  ball  shot  out  of  a  gun  Neewa  sped  past  the 
rock  where  she  had  been  sleeping,  and  ten  jumps 
behind  him  came  Makoos.  Out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye  he  saw  his  mother,  but  his  momentum  carried 
him  past  her.  In  that  moment  Noozak  leapt  into 
action.  As  a  football  player  makes  a  tackle  she 
rushed  out  just  in  time  to  catch  old  Makoos  with  all 
her  weight  full  broadside  in  the  ribs,  and  the  two 
old  bears  rolled  over  and  over  in  what  to  Neewa 
was  an  exciting  and  glorious  mix-up. 

He  had  stopped,  and  his  eyes  bulged  out  like  shin- 
ing little  onions  as  he  took  in  the  scene  of  battle. 
He  had  longed  for  a  fight  but  what  he  saw  now  fairly 
paralyzed  him.  The  two  bears  were  at  it,  roaring 
and  tearing  each  other's  hides  and  throwing  up 
showers  of  gravel  and  earth  in  their  deadly  clinch. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  21 

In  this  first  round  Noozak  had  the  best  of  it.  She 
had  butted  the  wind  out  of  Makoos  in  her  first  dyna- 
mic assault,  and  now  with  her  dulled  and  broken 
teeth  at  his  throat  she  was  lashing  him  with  her  sharp 

hind  claws  until  the  blood  streamed  from  the  old  bar- 

» 

barian's  sides  and  he  bellowed  like  a  choking  bull. 
Neewa  knew  that  it  was  his  pursuer  who  was  getting 
the  worst  of  it,  and  with  a  squeaky  cry  for  his  mother 
to  lambast  the  very  devil  out  of  Makoos  he  ran  back 
to  the  edge  of  the  arena,  his  nose  crinkled  and  his 
teeth  gleaming  in  a  ferocious  snarl.  He  danced 
about  excitedly  a  dozen  feet  from  the  fighters,  Soo- 
minitik's  blood  filling  him  with  a  yearning  for  the  fray 
and  yet  he  was  afraid. 

Then  something  happened  that  suddenly  and 
totally  upset  the  maddening  joy  of  his  mother's 
triumph.  Makoos,  being  a  he-bear,  was  of  necessity 
skilled  in  fighting,  and  all  at  once  he  freed  himself 
from  Noozak's  jaws,  wallowed  her  under  him,  and 
in  turn  began  ripping  the  hide  off  old  Noozak's  car- 
cass in  such  quantities  that  she  let  out  an  agonized 
bawling  that  turned  Neewa's  little  heart  into  stone. 

It  is  a  matter  of  most  exciting  conjecture  what  a 
small  boy  will  do  when  he  sees  his  father  getting 


22  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

licked.  If  there  is  an  axe  handy  he  is  liable  to  use 
it.  The  most  cataclysmic  catastrophe  that  can 
come  into  his  life  is  to  have  a  father  whom  some 
other  boy's  father  has  given  a  walloping.  Next  to 
being  President  of  the  United  States  the  average 
small  boy  treasures  the  desire  to  possess  a  parent 
who  can  whip  any  other  two-legged  creature  that 
wears  trousers.  And  there  were  a  lot  of  human 
things  about  Neewa.  The  louder  his  mother  bawled 
the  more  distinctly  he  felt  the  shock  of  his  world  fall- 
ing about  him.  If  Noozak  had  lost  a  part  of  her 
strength  in  her  old  age  her  voice,  at  least,  was  still 
unimpaired,  and  such  a  spasm  of  outcry  as  she  emit- 
ted could  have  been  heard  at  least  half  a  mile  away. 
Neewa  could  stand  no  more.  Blind  with  rage, 
he  darted  in.  It  was  chance  that  closed  his  vicious 
little  jaws  on  a  toe  that  belonged  to  Makoos,  and 
his  teeth  sank  into  the  flesh  like  two  rows  of  ivory 
needles.  Makoos  gave  a  tug,  but  Neewa  held  on, 
and  bit  deeper.  Then  Makoos  drew  up  his  leg  and 
sent  it  out  like  a  catapault,  and  in  spite  of  his  deter- 
mination to  hang  on  Neewa  found  himself  sailing 
wildly  through  the  air.  He  landed  against  a  rock 
twenty  feet  from  the  fighters  with  a  force  that 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  23 

knocked  the  wind  out  of  him,  and  for  a  matter  of 
eight  or  ten  seconds  after  that  he  wobbled  dizzily  in 
his  efforts  to  stand  up.  Then  his  vision  and  his  senses 
returned  and  he  gazed  on  a  scene  that  brought  all 
the  blood  pounding  back  into  his  body  again. 

Makoos  was  no  longer  fighting,  but  was  running 
away — and  there  was  a  decided  limp  in  his  gait! 

Poor  old  Noozak  was  standing  on  her  feet,  facing 
the  retreating  enemy.  She  was  panting  like  a 
winded  calf.  Her  jaws  were  agape.  Her  tongue 
lolled  out,  and  blood  was  dripping  in  little  trickles 
from  her  body  to  the  ground.  She  had  been  thor- 
oughly and  efficiently  mauled.  She  was  beyond 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt  a  whipped  bear.  Yet  in  that 
glorious  flight  of  the  enemy  Neewa  saw  nothing 
of  Noozak's  defeat.  Their  enemy  was  running 
away!  Therefore,  he  was  whipped.  And  with  ex- 
cited little  squeaks  of  joy  Neewa  ran  to  his  mother. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

A  THEY  stood  in  the  warm  sunshine  of  this 
first  day  of  June,  watching  the  last  of  Makoos 
as  he  fled  across  the  creek  bottom,  Nee wa  felt 
very  much  like  an  old  and  seasoned  warrior  instead 
of  a  pot-bellied,  round-faced  cub  of  four  months  who 
weighed  nine  pounds  and  not  four  hundred. 

It  was  many  minutes  after  Neewa  had  sunk  his 
ferocious  little  teeth  deep  into  the  tenderest  part  of 
the  old  he-bear's  toe  before  Noozak  could  get  her 
wind  sufficiently  to  grunt.  Her  sides  were  pumping 
like  a  pair  of  bellows,  and  after  Makoos  had  disap- 
peared beyond  the  creek  Neewa  sat  down  on  his 
chubby  bottom,  perked  his  funny  ears  forward,  and 
eyed  his  mother  with  round  and  glistening  eyes  that 
were  filled  with  uneasy  speculation.  With  a  wheez- 
ing groan  Noozak  turned  and  made  her  way  slowly 
toward  the  big  rock  alongside  which  she  had  been 
sleeping  when  Neewa's  fearful  cries  for  help  had 
awakened  her.  Every  bone  in  her  aged  body  seemed 

24 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  25 

broken  or  dislocated.  She  limped  and  sagged  and 
moaned  as  she  walked,  and  behind  her  were  left 
little  red  trails  of  blood  in  the  green  grass.  Makoos 
had  given  her  a  fine  pummeling. 

She  lay  down,  gave  a  final  groan,  and  looked  at 
Neewa,  as  if  to  say: 

"If  you  hadn't  gone  off  on  some  deviltry  and  upset 
that  old  viper's  temper  this  wouldn't  have  happened. 
And  now — look  at  me!" 

A  young  bear  would  have  rallied  quickly  from  the 
effects  of  the  battle,  but  Noozak  lay  without  moving 
all  the  rest  of  that  afternoon,  and  the  night  that  fol- 
lowed. And  that  night  was  by  all  odds  the  finest 
that  Neewa  had  ever  seen.  Now  that  the  nights 
were  warm,  he  had  come  to  love  the  moon  even  more 
than  the  sun,  for  by  birth  and  instinct  he  was  more 
a  prowler  in  darkness  than  a  hunter  of  the  day.  The 
moon  rose  out  of  the  east  in  a  glory  of  golden  fire. 
The  spruce  and  balsam  forests  stood  out  like  islands 
in  a  yellow  sea  of  light,  and  the  creek  shimmered 
and  quivered  like  a  living  thing  as  it  wound  its  way 
through  the  glowing  valley.  But  Neewa  had  learned 
his  lesson,  and  though  the  moon  and  the  stars  called 
to  him  he  bung  close  to  his  mother,  listening  to  the 


26  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

carnival  of  night  sound  that  came  to  him,  but  never 
moving  away  from  her  side. 

With  the  morning  Noozak  rose  to  her  feet,  and 
with  a  grunting  command  for  Neewa  to  follow  she 
slowly  climbed  the  sun-capped  ridge.  She  was  in 
no  mood  for  travel,  but  away  back  in  her  head  was 
an  unexpressed  fear  that  villainous  old  Makoos  might 
return,  and  she  knew  that  another  fight  would  do  her 
up  entirely,  in  which  event  Makoos  would  make  a 
breakfast  of  Neewa.  So  she  urged  herself  down  the 
other  side  of  the  ridge,  across  a  new  valley,  and 
through  a  cut  that  opened  like  a  wide  door  into  a 
rolling  plain  that  was  made  up  of  meadows  and  lakes 
and  great  sweeps  of  spruce  and  cedar  forest.  For 
a  week  Noozak  had  been  making  for  a  certain  creek 
in  this  plain,  and  now  that  the  presence  of  Makoos 
threatened  behind  she  kept  at  her  journeying  until 
Neewa's  short,  fat  legs  could  scarcely  hold  up  his  body. 

It  was  mid-afternoon  when  they  reached  the  creek, 
and  Neewa  was  so  exhausted  that  he  had  difficulty 
in  climbing  the  spruce  up  which  his  mother  sent  him 
to  take  a  nap.  Finding  a  comfortable  crotch  he 
quickly  fell  asleep — while  Noozak  went  fishing. 

The  creek  was  alive  with  suckers,  trapped  in  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  27 

shallow  pools  after  spawning,  and  within  an  hour 
she  had  the  shore  strewn  with  them.  When  Neewa 
came  down  out  of  his  cradle,  just  at  the  edge  of  dusk, 
it  was  to  a  feast  at  which  Noozak  had  already  stuffed 
herself  until  she  looked  like  a  barrel.  This  was  his 
first  meal  of  fish,  and  for  a  week  thereafter  he  lived 
in  a  paradise  of  fish.  He  ate  them  morning,  noon, 
and  night,  and  when  he  was  too  full  to  eat  he  rolled 
in  them.  And  Noozak  stuffed  herself  until  it  seemed 
her  hide  would  burst.  Wherever  they  moved  they 
carried  with  them  a  fishy  smell  that  grew  older  day 
by  day,  and  the  older  it  became  the  more  delicious 
it  was  to  Neewa  and  his  mother.  And  Neewa  grew 
like  a  swelling  pod.  In  that  week  he  gained  three 
pounds.  He  had  given  up  nursing  entirely  now,  for 
Noozak — being  an  old  bear — had  dried  up  to  a  point 
where  she  was  hopelessly  disappointing. 

It  was  early  in  the  evening  of  the  eighth  day  that 
Neewa  and  his  mother  lay  down  in  the  edge  of  a 
grassy  knoll  to  sleep  after  their  day's  feasting. 
Noozak  was  by  all  odds  the  happiest  old  bear  in  all 
that  part  of  the  northland.  Food  was  no  longer  a 
problem  for  her.  In  the  creek,  penned  up  in  the 
pools,  were  unlimited  quantities  of  it,  and  she  had 


28  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

encountered  no  other  bear  to  challenge  her  posses- 
sion of  it.  She  looked  ahead  to  uninterrupted  bliss 
in  their  happy  hunting  grounds  until  midsummer 
storms  emptied  the  pools,  or  the  berries  ripened. 
And  Neewa,  a  happy  little  gourmand,  dreamed  with 
her. 

It  was  this  day,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  that 
a  man  on  his  hands  and  knees  was  examining  a  damp 
patch  of  sand  five  or  six  miles  down  the  creek.  His 
sleeves  were  rolled  up,  baring  his  brown  arms  half- 
way to  the  shoulders  and  he  wore  no  hat,  so  that  the 
evening  breeze  ruffled  a  ragged  head  of  blond  hair 
that  for  a  matter  of  eight  or  nine  months  had  been 
cut  with  a  hunting  knife. 

Close  on  one  side  of  this  individual  was  a  tin  pail, 
and  on  the  other,  eying  him  with  the  keenest  inter- 
est, one  of  the  homeliest  and  yet  one  of  the  most  com- 
panionable-looking dog  pups  ever  born  of  a  Macken- 
zie hound  father  and  a  mother  half  Airedale  and 
hah6  Spitz. 

With  this  tragedy  of  blood  in  his  veins  nothing  in 
the  world  could  have  made  the  pup  anything  more 
than  "just  dog."  His  tail,  stretched  out  straight  on 
the  sand,  was  long  and  lean,  with  a  knot  at  every 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  29 

joint;  his  paws,  like  an  overgrown  boy's  feet,  looked 
like  small  boxing-gloves;  his  head  was  three  sizes  too 
big  for  his  body,  and  accident  had  assisted  Nature  in 
the  perfection  of  her  masterpiece  by  robbing  him  of 
a  half  of  one  of  his  ears.  As  he  watched  his  master 
this  half  of  an  ear  stood  up  like  a  galvanized  stub, 
while  the  other — twice  as  long — was  perked  forward 
in  the  deepest  and  most  interested  enquiry.  Head, 
feet,  and  tail  were  Mackenzie  hound,  but  the  ears  and 
his  lank,  skinny  body  was  a  battle  royal  between  Spitz 
and  Airedale.  At  his  present  inharmonious  stage  of 
development  he  was  the  doggiest  dog-pup  outside 
the  alleys  of  a  big  city. 

For  the  first  time  in  several  minutes  his  master 
spoke,  and  Miki  wiggled  from  stem  to  stern  in  ap- 
preciation of  the  fact  that  it  was  directly  to  him  the 
words  were  uttered. 

"It's  a  mother  and  a  cub,  as  sure  as  you're  a  week 
old,  Miki,"  he  said.  "And  if  I  know  anything  about 
bears  they  were  here  some  time  to-day!" 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  made  note  of  the  deepening 
shadows  in  the  edge  of  the  timber,  and  filled  his  pail 
with  water.  For  a  few  moments  the  last  rays  of  the 
sun  lit  up  his  face.  It  was  a  strong,  hopeful  face. 


30  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

In  it  was  the  joy  of  life.  And  now  it  was  lighted  up 
with  a  sudden  inspiration,  and  a  glow  that  was  not 
of  the  forest  alone  came  into  his  eyes,  as  he  added: 

"Mild,  I'm  lugging  your  homely  carcass  down  to 
the  Girl  because  you're  an  unpolished  gem  of  good 
nature  and  beauty — and  for  those  two  things  I 
know  she'll  love  you.  She  is  my  sister,  you  know. 
Now,  if  I  could  only  take  that  cub  along  with 
you " 

He  began  to  whistle  as  he  turned  with  his  pail  of 
water  in  the  direction  of  a  thin  fringe  of  balsams  a 
hundred  yards  away. 

Close  at  his  heels  followed  Miki. 

Challoner,  who  was  a  newly  appointed  factor  of 
the  Great  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  had  pitched  his 
camp  at  the  edge  of  the  lake  close  to  the  mouth  of 
the  creek.  There  was  not  much  to  it — a  battered 
tent,  a  still  more  battered  canoe,  and  a  small  pile  of 
dunnage.  But  in  the  last  glow  of  the  sunset  it 
would  have  spoken  volumes  to  a  man  with  an  eye 
trained  to  the  wear  and  the  turmoil  of  the  forests. 
It  was  the  outfit  of  a  man  who  had  gone  unfearing 
to  the  rough  edge  of  the  world.  And  now  what  was 
left  of  it  was  returning  with  him.  To  Challoner 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  31 

there  was  something  of  human  comradeship  in  these 
remnants  of  things  that  had  gone  through  the  greater 
part  of  a  year's  fight  with  him.  The  canoe  was 
warped  and  battered  and  patched;  smoke  and  storm 
had  blackened  his  tent  until  it  was  the  colour  of 
rusty  char,  and  his  grub  sacks  were  next  to 
empty. 

Over  a  small  fire  the  contents  of  a  pan  and  a  pot 
were  brewing  when  he  returned  with  Miki  at  his 
heels,  and  close  to  the  heat  was  a  battered  and 
mended  reflector  in  which  a  bannock  of  flour  and 
water  was  beginning  to  brown.  In  one  of  the  pots 
was  coffee,  in  the  other  a  boiling  fish. 

Miki  sat  down  on  his  angular  haunches  so  that  the 
odour  of  the  fish  filled  his  nostrils.  This,  he  had 
discovered,  was  the  next  thing  to  eating.  His  eyes, 
as  they  followed  Challoner's  final  preparatory  move- 
ments, were  as  bright  as  garnets,  and  every  third  or 
fourth  breath  he  licked  his  chops,  and  swallowed 
hungrily.  That,  in  fact,  was  why  Miki  had  got  his 
name.  He  was  always  hungry,  and  apparently  al- 
ways empty,  no  matter  how  much  he  ate.  There- 
fore his  name,  Miki,  "The  drum." 

It  was  not  until  they  had  eaten  the  fish  and  the 


32  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

bannock,  and  Challoner  had  lighted  his  pipe,  that  he 
spoke  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"To-morrow  I'm  going  after  that  bear,"  he  said. 

Miki,  curled  up  near  the  dying  embers,  gave  his 
tail  a  club-like  thump  in  evidence  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  listening. 

"I'm  going  to  pair  you  up  with  the  cub,  and  tickle 
the  Girl  to  death." 

Miki  thumped  his  tail  harder  than  before. 

"Fine,"  he  seemed  to  say. 

"Just  think  of  it,"  said  Challoner,  looking  over 
Miki's  head  a  thousand  miles  away,  "Fourteen 
months — and  at  last  we're  going  home.  I'm  going 
to  train  you  and  the  cub  for  that  sister  of  mine.  Eh, 
won't  you  like  that?  You  don't  know  what  she's 
like,  you  homely  little  devil,  or  you  wouldn't  sit 
there  staring  at  me  like  a  totem-pole  pup!  And  it 
isn't  in  your  stupid  head  to  imagine  how  pretty  she 
is.  You  saw  that  sunset  to-night?  Well,  she's 
prettier  than  that  if  she  is  my  sister.  Got  anything 
to  add  to  that,  Miki?  If  not,  let's  say  our  prayers 
and  go  to  bed!" 

Challoner  rose  and  stretched  himself.  His  muscles 
cracked.  He  felt  life  surging  like  a  giant  within  him. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  33 

And  Miki,  thumping  his  tail  until  this  moment, 
rose  on  his  overgrown  legs  and  followed  his  master 

into  their  shelter. 
•  •••••  • 

It  was  in  the  gray  light  of  the  early  summer  dawn 
when  Challoner  came  forth  again,  and  rekindled  the 
fire.  Miki  followed  a  few  moments  later,  and  his 
master  fastened  the  end  of  a  worn  tent-rope  around 
his  neck  and  tied  the  rope  to  a  sapling.  Another 
rope  of  similar  length  Challoner  tied  to  the  corners 
of  a  grub  sack  so  that  it  could  be  carried  over  his 
shoulder  like  a  game  bag.  With  the  first  rose-flush 
of  the  sun  he  was  ready  for  the  trail  of  Neewa  and 
his  mother.  Miki  set  up  a  melancholy  wailing  when 
he  found  himself  left  behind,  and  when  Challoner 
looked  back  the  pup  was  tugging  and  somersaulting 
at  the  end  of  his  rope  like  a  jumping-jack.  For  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  up  the  creek  he  could  hear  Miki's 
entreating  protest. 

To  Challoner  the  business  of  the  day  was  not  a 
matter  of  personal  pleasure,  nor  was  it  inspired  alone 
by  his  desire  to  possess  a  cub  along  with  Miki.  He 
needed  meat,  and  bear  pork  thus  early  in  the  season 
would  be  exceedingly  good;  and  above  all  else  he 


34  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

needed  a  supply  of  fat.  If  he  bagged  this  bear, 
time  would  be  saved  all  the  rest  of  the  way  down 
to  civilization. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  when  he  struck  the  first  un- 
mistakably fresh  signs  of  Noozak  and  Neewa.  It 
was  at  the  point  where  Noozak  had  fished  four  or 
five  days  previously,  and  where  they  had  returned 
yesterday  to  feast  on  the  "ripened"  catch.  Chal- 
loner  was  elated.  He  was  sure  that  he  would  find 
the  pair  along  the  creek,  and  not  far  distant.  The 
wind  was  in  his  favour,  and  he  began  to  advance 
with  greater  caution,  his  rifle  ready  for  the  antici- 
pated moment.  For  an  hour  he  travelled  steadily 
and  quietly,  marking  every  sound  and  movement 
ahead  of  him,  and  wetting  his  finger  now  and  then 
to  see  if  the  wind  had  shifted.  After  all,  it  was  not 
so  much  a  matter  of  human  cunning.  Everything 
was  in  Challoner's  favour. 

In  a  wide,  flat  part  of  the  valley  where  the  creek 
split  itself  into  a  dozen  little  channels,  and  the  water 
rippled  between  sandy  bars  and  over  pebbly  shallows, 
Neewa  and  his  mother  were  nosing  about  lazily  for 
a  breakfast  of  crawfish.  The  world  had  never  looked 
more  beautiful  to  Neewa.  The  sun  made  the  soft 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  35 

hair  on  his  back  fluff  up  like  that  of  a  purring  cat. 
He  liked  the  plash  of  wet  sand  under  his  feet  and  the 
singing  gush  of  water  against  his  legs.  He  liked  the 
sound  that  was  all  about  him,  the  breath  of  the  wind, 
the  whispers  that  came  out  of  the  spruce-tops  and 
the  cedars,  the  murmur  of  water,  the  twit-twit  of  the 
rock  rabbits,  the  call  of  birds;  and  more  than  all  else 
the  low,  grunting  talk  of  his  mother. 

It  was  in  this  sun-bathed  sweep  of  the  valley  that 
Noozak  caught  the  first  whiff  of  danger.  It  came 
to  her  in  a  sudden  twist  of  the  wind — the  smell  of 
man! 

Instantly  she  was  turned  into  rock.  There  was 
still  the  deep  scar  in  her  shoulder  which  had  come, 
years  before,  with  that  same  smell  of  the  one  enemy 
she  feared.  For  three  summers  she  had  not  caught 
the  taint  in  her  nostrils  and  she  had  almost  forgotten 
its  existence.  Now,  so  suddenly  that  it  paralyzed 
her,  it  was  warm  and  terrible  in  the  breath  of  the 
wind. 

In  this  moment,  too,  Neewa  seemed  to  sense 
the  nearness  of  an  appalling  danger.  Two  hundred 
yeards  from  Challoner  he  stood  a  motionless  blotch 
cl  jet  against  the  white  of  the  sand  about  him,  his 


36  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

eyes  on  his  mother,  and  his  sensitive  little  nose  trying 
to  catch  the  meaning  of  the  menace  in  the  air. 

Then  came  a  thing  he  had  never  heard  before — 
a  splitting,  cracking  roar — something  that  was  al- 
most like  thunder  and  yet  unlike  it;  and  he  saw  his 
mother  lurch  where  she  stood  and  crumple  down  all 
at  once  on  her  fore  legs. 

The  next  moment  she  was  up,  with  a  wild  whoof 
in  her  voice  that  was  new  to  him — a  warning  for  him 
to  fly  for  his  life. 

Like  all  mothers  who  have  known  the  comradeship 
and  love  of  a  child,  Noozak's  first  thought  was  of  him. 
Reaching  out  a  paw  she  gave  him  a  sudden  shove, 
and  Neewa  legged  it  wildly  for  the  near-by  shelter 
of  the  timber.  Noozak  followed.  A  second  shot 
came,  and  close  over  her  head  there  sped  a  purring, 
terrible  sound.  But  Noozak  did  not  hurry.  She 
kept  behind  Neewa,  urging  him  on  even  as  that  pain 
of  a  red-hot  iron  in  her  groin  filled  her  with  agony. 
They  came  to  the  edge  of  the  timber  as  Challoner's 
third  shot  bit  under  Noozak's  feet. 

A  moment  more  and  they  were  within  the  barri- 
cade of  the  timber.  Instinct  guided  Neewa  into  the 
thickest  part  of  it,  and  close  behind  him  Noozak 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  37 

fought  with  the  last  of  her  dying  strength  to  urge 
him  on.  In  her  old  brain  there  was  growing  a  deep 
and  appalling  shadow,  something  that  was  beginning 
to  cloud  her  vision  so  that  she  could  not  see,  and  she 
knew  that  at  last  she  had  come  to  the  uttermost  end 
of  her  trail.  With  twenty  years  of  life  behind  her, 
she  struggled  now  for  a  last  few  seconds.  She  stop- 
ped Neewa  close  to  a  thick  cedar,  and  as  she  had 
done  many  times  before  she  commanded  him  to  climb 
it.  Just  once  her  hot  tongue  touched  his  face  in  a  final 
caress.  Then  she  turned  to  fight  her  last  great  fight. 
Straight  into  the  face  of  Challoner  she  dragged 
herself,  and  fifty  feet  from  the  spruce  she  stopped  and 
waited  for  him,  her  head  drooped  between  her  shoul- 
ders, her  sides  heaving,  her  eyes  dimming  more  and 
more,  until  at  last  she  sank  down  with  a  great  sigh, 
barring  the  trail  of  their  enemy.  For  a  space,  it  may 
be,  she  saw  once  more  the  golden  moons  and  the 
blazing  suns  of  those  twenty  years  that  were  gone; 
it  may  be  that  the  soft,  sweet  music  of  spring  came 
to  her  again,  filled  with  the  old,  old  song  of  life,  and 
that  Something  gracious  and  painless  descended 
upon  her  as  a  final  reward  for  a  glorious  motherhood 
on  earth. 


38  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

When  Challoner  came  up  she  was  dead. 

From  his  hiding  place  in  a  crotch  of  the  spruce 
Neewa  looked  down  on  the  first  great  tragedy  of  his 
life,  and  the  advent  of  man.  The  two-legged  beast 
made  him  cringe  deeper  into  his  refuge,  and  his  little 
heart  was  near  breaking  with  the  terror  that  had  seized 
upon  him.  He  did  not  reason.  It  was  by  no  miracle 
of  mental  process  that  he  knew  something  terrible 
had  happened,  and  that  this  tall,  two-legged  creature 
was  the  cause  of  it.  His  little  eyes  were  blazing,  just 
over  the  level  of  the  crotch.  He  wondered  why  his 
mother  did  not  get  up  and  fight  when  this  new  enemy 
came.  Frightened  as  he  was  he  was  ready  to  snarl 
if  she  would  only  wake  up — ready  to  hurry  down  the 
tree  and  help  her  as  he  had  helped  her  in  the  defeat 
of  Makoos,  the  old  he-bear.  But  not  a  muscle  of 
Noozak's  huge  body  moved  as  Challoner  bent  over 
her.  She  was  stone  dead. 

Challoner 's  face  was  flushed  with  exultation. 
Necessity  had  made  of  him  a  killer.  He  saw  in 
Noozak  a  splendid  pelt,  and  a  provision  of  meat  that 
would  carry  him  all  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  south- 
land. He  leaned  his  rifle  against  a  tree  and  began 
looking  about  for  the  cub.  Knowledge  of  the  wild 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  39 

told  bin*  it  would  not  be  far  from  its  mother,  and  he 
began  looking  into  the  trees  and  the  near-by  thickets. 

In  the  shelter  of  his  crotch,  screened  by  the  thick 
branches,  Neewa  made  himself  as  small  as  possible 
during  the  search.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  Chal- 
loner  disappointedly  gave  up  his  quest,  and  went 
back  to  the  creek  for  a  drink  before  setting  himself 
to  the  task  of  skinning  Noozak. 

No  sooner  was  he  gone  than  Neewa's  little  head 
shot  up  alertly.  For  a  few  moments  he  watched, 
and  then  slipped  backward  down  the  trunk  of  the 
cedar  to  the  ground.  He  gave  his  squealing  call, 
but  his  mother  did  not  move.  He  went  to  her  and 
stood  beside  her  motionless  head,  sniffing  the  man- 
tainted  air.  Then  he  muzzled  her  jowl,  butted  his 
nose  under  her  neck,  and  at  last  nipped  her  ear — al- 
ways his  last  resort  in  the  awakening  process.  He 
was  puzzled.  He  whined  softly,  and  climbed  upon 
his  mother's  big,  soft  back,  and  sat  there.  Into 
his  whine  there  came  a  strange  note,  and  then  out  of 
his  throat  there  rose  a  whimpering  cry  that  was  like 
the  cry  of  a  child. 

Challoner  heard  that  cry  as  he  came  back,  and 
something  seemed  to  grip  hold  of  his  heart  suddenly, 


40  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

and  choke  him.  He  had  heard  children  crying  Eke 
that;  and  it  was  the  motherless  cub! 

Creeping  up  behind  a  dwarf  spruce  he  looked  where 
Noozak  lay  dead,  and  saw  Neewa  perched  on  his 
mother's  back.  He  had  killed  many  things  in  his 
time,  for  it  was  his  business  to  kill,  and  to  barter  in 
the  pelts  of  creatures  that  others  killed.  But  he  had 
seen  nothing  like  this  before,  and  he  felt  all  at  once 
as  if  he  had  done  murder. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  breathed  softly,  "you  poor  little 
devil;  I'm  sorry!" 

It  was  almost  a  prayer — for  forgiveness.  Yet 
there  was  but  one  thing  to  do  now.  So  quietly  that 
Neewa  failed  to  hear  him  he  crept  around  with  the 
wind  and  stole  up  behind.  He  was  within  a  dozen 
feet  of  Neewa  before  the  cub  suspected  danger. 
Then  it  was  too  late.  In  a  swift  rush  Challoner  was 
upon  him  and,  before  Neewa  could  leave  the  back 
of  his  mother,  had  smothered  him  in  the  folds  of  the 
grub  sack. 

In  all  his  life  Challoner  had  never  experienced  a 
livelier  five  minutes  than  the  five  that  followed. 
Above  Neewa's  grief  and  his  fear  there  rose  the  sav- 
age fighting  blood  of  old  Soominitik,  his  father.  He 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  41 

clawed  and  bit  and  kicked  and  snarled.  In  those 
five  minutes  he  was  five  little  devils  all  rolled  into 
one,  and  by  the  time  Challoner  had  the  rope  fastened 
about  Neewa's  neck,  and  his  fat  body  chucked  into 
the  sack,  his  hands  were  scratched  and  lacerated  in 
a  score  of  places. 

In  the  sack  Neewa  continued  to  fight  until  he  was 
exhausted,  while  Challoner  skinned  Noozak  and  cut 
from  her  the  meat  and  fats  which  he  wanted.  The 
beauty  of  Noozak's  pelt  brought  a  glow  into  his  eyes. 
In  it  he  rolled  the  meat  and  fats,  and  with  babiche 
thong  bound  the  whole  into  a  pack  around  which  he 
belted  the  dunnage  ends  of  his  shoulder  straps. 
Weighted  under  the  burden  of  sixty  pounds  of  pelt 
and  meat  he  picked  up  his  rifle — and  Neewa.  It 
had  been  early  afternoon  when  he  left.  It  was  al- 
most sunset  when  he  reached  camp.  Every  foot 
of  the  way,  until  the  last  half  mile,  Neewa  fought 
like  a  Spartan. 

Now  he  lay  limp  and  almost  lifeless  in  his  sack, 
and  when  Miki  came  up  to  smell  suspiciously  of  his 
prison  he  made  no  movement  of  protest.  All  smells 
were  alike  to  him  now,  and  of  sounds  he  made  no 
distinction.  Challoner  was  nearly  done  for.  Every 


42  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

i 

muscle  and  bone  in  his  body  had  its  ache.  Yet  in 
his  face,  sweaty  and  grimed,  was  a  grin  of  pride. 

"You  plucky  little  devil,"  he  said,  contemplating 
the  limp  sack  as  he  loaded  his  pipe  for  the  first  time 
that  afternoon.  "You — you  plucky  little  devil!" 

He  tied  the  end  of  Neewa's  rope  halter  to  a  sapling, 
and  began  cautiously  to  open  the  grub  sack.  Then 
he  rolled  Neewa  out  on  the  ground,  and  stepped 
back.  In  that  hour  Neewa  was  willing  to  accept  a 
truce  so  far  as  Challoner  was  concerned.  But  it  was 
not  Challoner  that  his  half-blinded  eyes  saw  first 
as  he  rolled  from  his  bag.  It  was  Miki!  And  Miki, 
his  awkward  body  wriggling  with  the  excitement  of 
his  curiosity,  was  almost  on  the  point  of  smelling  of 
him! 

Neewa's  little  eyes  glared.  Was  that  ill-jointed 
lop-eared  offspring  of  the  man-beast  an  enemy,  too? 
Were  those  twisting  convolutions  of  this  new  crea- 
ture's body  and  the  club-like  swing  of  his  tail  an 
invitation  to  fight?  He  judged  so.  Anyway,  here 
was  something  of  his  size,  and  like  a  flash  he  was  at 
the  end  of  his  rope  and  on  the  pup.  Miki,  a  moment 
before  bubbling  over  with  friendship  and  good  cheer, 
was  on  his  back  in  an  instant,  his  grotesque  legs 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  43 

paddling  the  air  and  his  yelping  cries  for  help  rising 
in  a  wild  clamour  that  filled  the  golden  stillness  of 
the  evening  with  an  unutterable  woe. 

Challoner  stood  dumbfounded.  In  another  mo- 
ment he  would  have  separated  the  little  fighters,  but 
something  happened  that  stopped  him.  Neewa, 
standing  squarely  over  Miki,  with  Miki's  four  over- 
grown paws  held  aloft  as  if  signalling  an  unqualified 
surrender,  slowly  drew  his  teeth  from  the  pup's  loose 
hide.  Again  he  saw  the  man-beast.  Instinct, 
keener  than  a  clumsy  reasoning,  held  him  for  a  few 
moments  without  movement,  his  beady  eyes  on 
Challoner.  In  midair  Miki  wagged  his  paws;  he 
whined  softly;  his  hard  tail  thumped  the  ground  as 
he  pleaded  for  mercy,  and  he  licked  his  chops  and 
tried  to  wriggle,  as  if  to  tell  Neewa  that  he  had  no 
intention  at  all  to  do  him  harm.  Neewa,  facing 
Challoner,  snarled  defiantly.  He  drew  himself 
slowly  from  over  Miki.  And  Miki,  afraid  to  move, 
still  lay  on  his  back  with  his  paws  in  the  air. 

Very  slowly,  a  look  of  wonder  in  his  face,  Challoner 
drew  back  into  the  tent  and  peered  through  a  rent 
in  the  canvas. 

The  snarl  left  Neewa's  face.     He  looked  at  the  pup. 


44  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Perhaps  away  back  in  some  corner  of  his  brain  the 
heritage  of  instinct  was  telling  him  of  what  he  had 
lost  because  of  brothers  and  sisters  unborn — the 
comradeship  of  babyhood,  the  play  of  children. 
And  Miki  must  have  sensed  the  change  in  the  furry 
little  black  creature  who  a  moment  ago  was  his 
enemy.  His  tail  thumped  aylmost  frantically,  and 
he  swung  out  his  front  paws  toward  Neewa.  Then, 
a  little  fearful  of  what  might  happen,  he  rolled  on 
his  side.  Still  Neewa  did  not  move.  Joyously 
Miki  wriggled. 

A  moment  later,  looking  through  the  slit  in  the 
canvas,  Challoner  saw  them  cautiously  smelling 
noses. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

f  •  "lHAT  night  came  a  cold  and  drizzling  rain 
from  out  of  the  north  and  the  east.  In  the 

"*"  wet  dawn  Challoner  came  out  to  start  a  fire, 
and  in  a  hollow  under  a  spruce  root  he  found  Miki 
and  Neewa  cuddled  together,  sound  asleep. 

It  was  the  cub  who  first  saw  the  man-beast,  and  for 
a  brief  space  before  the  pup  roused  himself  Neewa's 
shining  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  strange  enemy  who 
had  so  utterly  changed  his  world  for  him.  Exhaus- 
tion had  made  him  sleep  through  the  long  hours  of 
that  first  night  of  captivity,  and  in  sleep  he  had  for- 
gotten many  things.  But  now  it  all  came  back  to 
him  as  he  cringed  deeper  into  his  shelter  under  the 
root,  and  so  softly  that  only  Miki  heard  him  he 
whimpered  for  his  mother. 

It  was  the  whimper  that  roused  Miki.  Slowly 
he  untangled  himself  from  the  ball  into  which  he  had 
rolled,  stretched  his  long  and  overgrown  legs,  and 
yawned  so  loudly  that  the  sound  reached  Challoner's 

45 


46  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

ears.  The  man  turned  and  saw  two  pairs  of  eyes 
fixed  upon  him  from  the  sheltered  hollow  under  the 
root.  The  pup's  one  good  ear  and  the  other  that 
was  half  gone  stood  up  alertly,  as  he  greeted  his 
master  with  the  boundless  good  cheer  of  an  irrepres- 
sible comradeship.  Challoner's  face,  wet  with  the 
drizzle  of  the  gray  skies  and  bronzed  by  the  wind 
and  storm  of  fourteen  months  in  the  northland, 
lighted  up  with  a  responsive  grin,  and  Miki  wriggled 
forth  weaving  and  twisting  himself  into  grotesque 
contortions  expressive  of  happiness  at  being  thus 
directly  smiled  at  by  his  master. 

With  all  the  room  under  the  root  left  to  him  Neewa 
pulled  himself  back  until  only  his  round  head  was 
showing,  and  from  this  fortress  of  temporary  safety 
his  bright  little  eyes  glared  forth  at  his  mother's 
murderer. 

Vividly  the  tragedy  of  yesterday  was  before  him 
again — the  warm,  sun-filled  creek  bottom  in  which 
he  and  Noozak,  his  mother,  were  hunting  a  breakfast 
of  crawfish  when  the  man-beast  came;  the  crash  of 
strange  thunder,  their  flight  into  the  timber,  and 
the  end  of  it  all  when  his  mother  turned  to  confront 
their  enemy.  And  yet  it  was  not  the  death  of  his 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  47 

mother  that  remained  with  him  most  poignantly 
this  morning.  It  was  the  memory  of  his  own  terrific 
fight  with  the  white  man,  and  his  struggle  afterward 
in  the  black  and  suffocating  depths  of  the  bag  in 
which  Challoner  had  brought  him  to  his  camp. 
Even  now  Challoner  was  looking  at  the  scratches  on 
his  hands.  He  advanced  a  few  steps,  and  grinned 
down  at  Neewa,  just  as  he  had  grinned  good-humour- 
edly  at  Miki,  the  angular  pup. 

Neewa's  little  eyes  blazed. 

"I  told  you  last  night  that  I  was  sorry," 
said  Challoner,  speaking  as  if  to  one  of  his  own 
kind. 

In  several  ways  Challoner  was  unusual,  an  out- 
of-the-ordinary  type  in  the  northland.  He  believed, 
for  instance,  in  a  certain  specific  psychology  of  the 
animal  mind,  and  had  proven  to  his  own  satisfaction 
that  animals  treated  and  conversed  with  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  human  way  frequently  developed  an  under- 
standing which  he,  in  his  unscientific  way,  called 
reason. 

"I  told  you  I  was  sorry,"  he  repeated,  squatting 
on  his  heels  within  a  yard  of  the  root  from  under 
which  Neewa's  eyes  were  glaring  at  him,  "and  I  am. 


48  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

I'm  sorry  I  killed  your  mother.  But  we  had  to  have 
meat  andfat.  Besides,  Miki  and  I  are  going  to  make 
it  up  to  you.  We're  going  to  take  you  along  with 
us  down  to  the  Girl,  and  if  you  don't  learn  to  love 
her  you're  the  meanest,  lowest-down  little  cuss  in  all 
creation  and  don't  deserve  a  mother.  You  and 
Miki  are  going  to  be  brothers.  His  mother  is  dead, 
too — plum  starved  to  death,  which  is  worse  than 
dying  with  a  bullet  in  your  lung.  And  I  found 
Miki  just  as  I  found  you,  hugging  up  close  to  her 
an'  crying  as  if  there  wasn't  any  world  left  for 
him.  So  cheer  up,  and  give  us  your  paw.  Let's 
shake!" 

Challoner  held  out  his  hand.  Neewa  was  as 
motionless  as  a  stone.  A  few  moments  before  he 
would  have  snarled  and  bared  his  teeth.  But  now 
he  was  dead  still.  This  was  by  all  odds  the  strangest 
beast  he  had  ever  seen.  Yesterday  it  had  not 
harmed  him,  except  to  put  him  into  the  bag.  And 
now  it  did  not  offer  to  harm  him.  More  than  that, 
the  talk  it  made  was  not  unpleasant,  or  threatening. 
His  eyes  took  in  Miki.  The  pup  had  squeezed  him- 
self squarely  between  Challoner's  knees  and  was 
looking  at  him  in  a  puzzled,  questioning  sort  of  way, 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  49 

as  if  to  ask:  "Why  don't  you  come  out  from  under 
that  root  and  help  get  breakfast?" 

Challoner's  hand  came  nearer,  and  Neewa  crowded 
himself  back  until  there  was  not  another  inch  of 
room  for  him  to  fill.  Then  the  miracle  happened. 
The  man-beast's  paw  touched  his  head.  It  sent  a 
strange  and  terrible  thrill  through  him.  Yet  it  did 
not  hurt.  If  he  had  not  wedged  himself  in  so  tightly 
he  would  have  scratched  and  bitten.  But  he  could 
do  neither. 

Slowly  Challoner  worked  his  fingers  to  the  loose 
hide  at  the  back  of  Neewa's  neck.  Miki,  surmising 
that  something  momentous  was  about  to  happen, 
watched  the  proceedings  with  popping  eyes.  Then 
Challoner's  fingers  closed  and  the  next  instant  he 
dragged  Neewa  forth  and  held  him  at  arm's  length, 
kicking  and  squirming,  and  setting  up  such  a  bawling 
that  in  sheer  sympathy  Miki  raised  his  voice  and 
joined  in  the  agonized  orgy  of  sound.  Hah*  a  minute 
later  Challoner  had  Neewa  once  more  in  the  prison- 
sack,  but  this  time  he  left  the  cub's  head  protruding, 
and  drew  in  the  mouth  of  the  sack  closely  about  his 
neck,  fastening  it  securely  with  a  piece  of  babiche 
string.  Thus  three  quarters  of  Neewa  was  im- 


50  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

prisoned  in  the  sack,  with  only  his  head  sticking  out. 
He  was  a  cub  in  a  poke. 

Leaving  the  cub  to  roll  and  squirm  in  protest 
Challoner  went  about  the  business  of  getting  break- 
fast. For  once  Miki  found  a  proceeding  more  inter- 
esting than  that  operation,  and  he  hovered  about 
Neewa  as  he  struggled  and  bawled,  trying  vainly  to 
offer  him  some  assistance  in  the  matter  of  sympathy. 
Finally  Neewa  lay  still,  and  Miki  sat  down  close  be- 
side him  and  eyed  his  master  with  serious  questioning 
if  not  actual  disapprobation. 

The  gray  sky  was  breaking  with  the  promise  of  the 
sun  when  Challoner  was  ready  to  renew  his  long 
journey  into  the  southland.  He  packed  his  canoe, 
leaving  Neewa  and  Miki  until  the  last.  In  the  bow 
of  the  canoe  he  made  a  soft  nest  of  the  skin  taken 
from  the  cub's  mother.  Then  he  called  Miki  and 
tied  the  end  of  a  worn  rope  around  his  neck,  after 
which  he  fastened  the  other  end  of  this  rope  around 
the  neck  of  Neewa.  Thus  he  had  the  cub  and  the 
pup  on  the  same  yard-long  halter.  Taking  each  of 
the  twain  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  he  carried  them 
to  the  canoe  and  placed  them  in  the  nest  he  had  made 
of  Noozak's  hide. 


NOMADS  OP  THE  NORTH  51 

"Now  you  youngsters  be  good,"  he  warned. 
"We're  going  to  aim  at  forty  miles  to-day  to  make 
up  for  the  time  we  lost  yesterday." 

As  the  canoe  shot  out  a  shaft  of  sunlight  broke 
through  the  sky  low  in  the  east. 


CHAPTER   FIVE 

DURING  the  first  few  moments  in  which  the 
canoe  moved  swiftly  over  the  surface  of  the 
lake  an  amazing  change  had  taken  place 
in  Neewa.  Challoner  did  not  see  it,  and  Miki  was 
unconscious  of  it.  But  every  fibre  in  Neewa's  body 
was  atremble,  and  his  heart  was  thumping  as  it  had 
pounded  on  that  glorious  day  of  the  fight  between 
his  mother  and  the  old  he-bear.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  everything  that  he  had  lost  was  coming  back 
to  him,  and  that  all  would  be  well  very  soon— -for  he 
smelted  his  mother  I  And  then  he  discovered  that  the 
scent  of  her  was  warm  and  strong  in  the  furry  black 
mass  under  his  feet,  and  he  smothered  himself  down 
in  it,  flat  on  his  plump  little  belly,  and  peered  at 
Challoner  over  his  paws. 

It  was  hard  for  him  to  understand — the  man- 
beast  back  there,  sending  the  canoe  through  the 
water,  and  under  him  his  mother,  warm  and  soft, 
but  so  deadly  still!  He  could  not  keep  the  whimper 

52 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  53 

out  of  his  throat — his  low  and  grief -filled  call  for  her. 
And  there  was  no  answer,  except  Miki's  responsive 
whine,  the  crying  of  one  child  for  another.  Neewa's 
mother  did  not  move.  She  made  no  sound.  And 
he  could  see  nothing  of  her  but  her  black  and  furry 
skin — without  head,  without  feet,  without  the  big, 
bald  paws  he  had  loved  to  tickle,  and  the  ears  he  had 
loved  to  nip.  There  was  nothing  of  her  but  the 
patch  of  black  skin — and  the  smell. 

But  a  great  comfort  warmed  his  frightened  little 
soul.  He  felt  the  protecting  nearness  of  an  uncon- 
querable and  abiding  force  and  in  the  first  of  the 
warm  sunshine  his  back  fluffed  up,  and  he  thrust 
his  brown  nose  between  his  paws  and  into  his  mother's 
fur.  Miki,  as  if  vainly  striving  to  solve  the  mystery 
of  his  new-found  chum,  was  watching  him  closely 
from  between  his  own  fore-paws.  In  his  comical 
head — adorned  with  its  one  good  ear  and  its  one  bad 
one,  and  furthermore  beautified  by  the  outstanding 
whiskers  inherited  from  his  Airedale  ancestor — he 
was  trying  to  come  to  some  sort  of  an  understanding. 
At  the  outset  he  had  accepted  Neewa  as  a  friend  and 
a  comrade — and  Neewa  had  thanklessly  given  him 
a  good  mauling  for  his  trouble.  That  much  Miki 


54  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

could  forgive  and  forget.  What  he  could  not  for- 
give was  the  utter  lack  of  regard  which  Neewa 
seemed  to  possess  for  him.  His  playful  antics  had 
gained  no  recognition  from  the  cub.  When  he  had 
barked  and  hopped  about,  flattening  and  contorting 
himself  in  warm  invitation  for  him  to  join  in  a  game 
of  tag  or  a  wrestling  match,  Neewa  had  simply  stared 
at  him  like  an  idiot.  He  was  wondering,  perhaps,  if 
Neewa  would  enjoy  anything  besides  a  fight.  It 
was  a  long  time  before  he  decided  to  make  another 
experiment. 

It  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  halfway  between 
breakfast  and  noon.  In  all  that  time  Neewa  had 
scarcely  moved,  and  Miki  was  finding  himself  bored 
to  death.  The  discomfort  of  last  night's  storm  was 
only  a  memory,  and  overhead  there  was  a  sun 
unshadowed  by  cloud.  More  than  an  hour  before 
Challoner's  canoe  had  left  the  lake,  and  was  now  in 
the  clear-running  water  of  a  stream  that  was  making 
its  way  down  the  southward  slope  of  the  divide  be- 
tween Jackson's  Knee  and  the  Shamattawa.  It  was 
a  new  stream  to  Challoner,  fed  by  the  large  lake 
above,  and  guarding  himself  against  the  treachery 
of  waterfall  and  rapid  he  kept  a  keen  lookout  ahead. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  55 

For  a  matter  of  half  an  hour  the  water  had  been 
growing  steadily  swifter,  and  Challoner  was  satisfied 
that  before  very  long  he  would  be  compelled  to  make 
a  portage.  A  little  later  he  heard  ahead  of  him  the 
low  and  steady  murmur  which  told  him  he  was  ap- 
proaching a  danger  zone.  As  he  shot  around  the 
next  bend,  hugging  fairly  close  to  shore,  he  saw, 
four  or  five  hundred  yards  below  him,  a  rock-frothed 
and  boiling  maelstrom  of  water. 

Swiftly  his  eyes  measured  the  situation.  The 
rapids  ran  between  an  almost  precipitous  shore  on 
one  side  and  a  deep  forest  on  the  other.  He  saw 
at  a  glance  that  it  was  the  forest  side  over  which  he 
must  make  the  portage,  and  this  was  the  shore  op- 
posite him  and  farthest  away.  Swinging  his  canoe 
at  a  45-degree  angle  he  put  all  the  strength  of  body 
and  arms  into  the  sweep  of  his  paddle.  There 
would  be  just  time  to  reach  the  other  shore  before  the 
current  became  dangerous.  Above  the  sweep  of  the 
rapids  he  could  now  hear  the  growling  roar  of  a 
waterfall  below. 

It  was  at  this  unfortunate  moment  that  Miki  de- 
cided to  venture  one  more  experiment  with  Neewa. 
With  a  friendly  yip  he  swung  out  one  of  his  paws. 


56  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Now  Miki's  paw,  for  a  pup,  was  monstrously  big, 
and  his  foreleg  was  long  and  lanky,  so  that  when 
the  paw  landed  squarely  on  the  end  of  Neewa's  nose 
it  was  like  the  swing  of  a  prize-fighter's  glove.  The 
unexpectedness  of  it  was  a  further  decisive  feature 
in  the  situation;  and,  on  top  of  this,  Miki  swung  his 
other  paw  around  like  a  club  and  caught  Neewa  a 
jolt  in  the  eye.  This  was  too  much,  even  from  a 
friend,  and  with  a  sudden  snarl  Neewa  bounced  out 
of  his  nest  and  clinched  with  the  pup. 

Now  the  fact  was  that  Miki,  who  had  so  inglori- 
ously  begged  for  mercy  in  their  first  scrimmage, 
came  of  fighting  stock  himself.  Mix  the  blood  of 
a  Mackenzie  hound — which  is  the  biggest-footed, 
biggest-shouldered,  most  powerful  dog  in  the  north- 
land — with  the  blood  of  a  Spitz  and  an  Airedale  and 
something  is  bound  to  come  of  it.  While  the  Mack- 
enzie dog,  with  his  ox-like  strength,  is  peaceable 
and  good-humoured  in  all  sorts  of  weather,  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  the  devil  in  the  northern  Spitz  and  Aire- 
dale and  it  is  a  question  which  likes  a  fight  the  best. 
And  all  at  once  good-humoured  little  Miki  felt  the 
devil  rising  in  him.  This  time  he  did  not  yap  for 
mercy.  He  met  Neewa's  jaws,  and  in  two  seconds 


"  Miki  swung  his  other  paw  around  and  caught  Neewa  a 
jolt  in  the  eye.  This  was  too  much,  even  from  a  friend,  and 
with  a  sudden  snarl  Neewa  bounced  out  of  his  nest  and 
clinched  with  the  pup." 


I  ^'r«  •     •    •.  :  "-    \ 

«    «•      cc         .    -  .  -     ,  „          .         «C 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  57 

they  were  staging  a  first-class  fight  on  the  bit  of  pre- 
carious footing  in  the  prow  of  the  canoe. 

Vainly  Challoner  yelled  at  them  as  he  paddled 
desperately  to  beat  out  the  danger  of  the  rapids. 
Neewa  and  Miki  were  too  absorbed  to  hear  him. 
Miki's  four  paws  were  paddling  the  air  again,  but 

this  time  his  sharp  teeth  were  firmly  fixed  in  the 

• 

loose  hide  under  Neewa's  neck,  and  with  his  paws 
he  continued  to  kick  and  bat  in  a  way  that  promised 
effectively  to  pummel  the  wind  out  of  Neewa  had 
not  the  thing  happened  which  Challoner  feared. 
Still  in  a  clinch  they  rolled  off  the  prow  of  the  canoe 
into  the  swirling  current  of  the  stream. 

For  ten  seconds  or  so  they  utterly  disappeared. 
Then  they  bobbed  up,  a  good  fifty  feet  below  him, 
their  heads  close  together  as  they  sped  swiftly  to- 
ward the  doom  that  awaited  them,  and  a  choking 
cry  broke  from  Challoner's  lips.  He  was  powerless 
to  save  them,  and  in  his  cry  was  the  anguish  of  real 
grief.  For  many  weeks  Miki  had  been  his  only 
chum  and  comrade. 

Held  together  by  the  yard-long  rope  to  which  they 
were  fastened,  Miki  and  Neewa  swept  into  the  froth- 
ing turmoil  of  the  rapids.  For  Miki  it  was  the  kind- 


58  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

ness  of  fate  that  had  inspired  his  master  to  fasten 
him  to  the  same  rope  with  Neewa.  Miki,  at  three 
months  of  age — weight,  fourteen  pounds — was  about 
80  per  cent,  bone  and  only  a  half  of  1  per  cent,  fat; 
while  Neewa,  weight  thirteen  pounds,  was  about  90 
per  cent.  fat.  Therefore  Miki  had  the  floating  ca- 
pacity of  a  small  anchor,  while  Neewa  was  a  first- 
class  life-preserver,  and  almost  unsinkable. 

In  neither  of  the  youngsters  was  there  a  yellow 
streak.  Both  were  of  fighting  stock,  and,  though 
Miki  was  under  water  most  of  the  time  during  their 
first  hundred-yard  dash  through  the  rapids,  never 
for  an  instant  did  he  give  up  the  struggle  to  keep 
his  nose  in  the  air.  Sometimes  he  was  on  his  back 
and  sometimes  on  his  belly;  but  no  matter  what  his 
position,  he  kept  his  four  overgrown  paws  going  like 
paddles.  To  an  extent  this  helped  Neewa  in  the 
heroic  fight  he  was  making  to  keep  from  shipping 
too  much  water  himself.  Had  he  been  alone  his  ten 
or  eleven  pounds  of  fat  would  have  carried  him  down- 
stream like  a  toy  balloon  covered  with  fur,  but,  with 
the  fourteen-pound  drag  around  his  neck,  the  prob- 
lem of  not  going  under  completely  was  a  serious  one. 
Half  a  dozen  times  he  did  disappear  for  an  instant 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  59 

when  some  undertow  caught  Miki  and  dragged  him 
down — head,  tail,  legs,  and  all.  But  Neewa  always 
rose  again,  his  four  fat  legs  working  for  dear  life. 

Then  came  the  waterfall.  By  this  time  Miki  had 
become  accustomed  to  travelling  under  water,  and 
the  full  horror  of  the  new  cataclysm  into  which  they 
were  plunged  was  mercifully  lost  to  him.  His  paws 
had  almost  ceased  their  motion.  He  was  still  con- 
scious of  the  roar  in  his  ears,  but  the  affair  was  less 
unpleasant  than  it  was  at  the  beginning.  In  fact, 
he  was  drowning.  To  Neewa  the  pleasant  sensa- 
tions of  a  painless  death  were  denied.  No  cub  in  the 
world  was  wider  awake  than  he  when  the  final  catas- 
trophe came.  His  head  was  well  above  water  and  he 
was  clearly  possessed  of  all  his  senses.  Then  the 
river  itself  dropped  out  from  under  him  and  he  shot 
down  in  an  avalanche  of  water,  feeling  no  longer  the 
drag  of  Miki's  weight  at  his  neck. 

How  deep  the  pool  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  water- 
fall Challoner  might  have  guessed  quite  accurately. 
Could  Neewa  have  expressed  an  opinion  of  his  own, 
he  would  have  sworn  that  it  was  a  mile.  Miki  was 
past  the  stage  of  making  estimates,  or  of  caring 
whether  it  was  two  feet  or  two  leagues.  His  paws 


60  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

had  ceased  to  operate  and  he  had  given  himself  up 
entirely  to  his  fate.  But  Neewa  came  up  again,  and 
Miki  followed,  like  a  bobber.  He  was  about  to 
gasp  his  last  gasp  when  the  force  of  the  current,  as 
it  swung  out  of  the  whirlpool,  flung  Neewa  upon  a 
bit  of  partly  submerged  driftage,  and  in  a  wild  and 
strenuous  effort  to  make  himself  safe  Neewa  dragged 
Miki's  head  out  of  water  so  that  the  pup  hung  at  the 
edge  of  the  driftage  like  a  hangman's  victim  at  the 
end  of  his  rope. 


CHAPTER  SIX 

IT  IS  doubtful  whether  in  the  few  moments  that 
followed,  any  clear-cut  mental  argument  passed 
through  Neewa's  head.  It  is  too  much  to  sup- 
pose that  he  deliberately  set  about  assisting  the  half- 
dead  and  almost  unconscious  Miki  from  his  precari- 
ous position.  His  sole  ambition  was  to  get  himself 
where  it  was  safe  and  dry,  and  to  do  this  he  of  necessity 
had  to  drag  the  pup  with  him.  So  Neewa  tugged 
at  the  end  of  his  rope,  digging  his  sharp  little  claws 
into  the  driftwood,  and  as  he  advanced  Miki  was 
dragged  up  head  foremost  out  of  the  cold  and  friend- 
less stream.  It  was  a  simple  process.  Neewa  reached 
a  log  around  which  the  water  was  eddying,  and 
there  he  flattened  himself  down  and  hung  on  as  he 
had  never  hung  to  anything  else  in  his  life.  The  log 
was  entirely  hidden  from  shore  by  a  dense  growth 
of  brushwood.  Otherwise,  ten  minutes  later  Chal- 
loner  would  have  seen  them. 

As  it  was,   Miki  had  not  sufficiently  recovered 

61 


62  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

either  to  smell  or  hear  his  master  when  Challoner 
came  to  see  if  there  was  a  possibility  of  his  small 
comrade  being  alive.  And  Neewa  only  hugged  the 
log  more  tightly.  He  had  seen  enough  of  the  man- 
beast  to  last  him  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  It  was 
half  an  hour  before  Miki  began  to  gasp,  and  cough, 
and  gulp  up  water,  and  for  the  first  time  since  their 
scrap  in  the  canoe  the  cub  began  to  take  a  live  inter- 
est in  him.  In  another  ten  minutes  Miki  raised  his 
head  and  looked  about  him.  At  that  Neewa  gave 
a  tug  on  the  rope,  as  if  to  advise  him  that  it  was  time 
to  get  busy  if  they  were  expected  to  reach  shore. 
And  Miki,  drenched  and  forlorn,  resembling  more 
a  starved  bone  than  a  thing  of  skin  and  flesh,  actually 
made  an  effort  to  wag  his  tail  when  he  saw  Neewa. 
He  was  still  in  a  couple  of  inches  of  water,  and  with 
a  hopeful  eye  on  the  log  upon  which  Neewa  was 
squatted  he  began  to  work  his  wobbly  legs  toward  it. 
It  was  a  high  log,  and  a  dry  log,  and  when  Miki 
reached  it  his  unlucky  star  was  with  him  again.  Cum- 
brously  he  sprawled  himself  against  it,  and  as  he 
scrambled  and  scraped  with  his  four  awkward  legs 
to  get  up  alongside  Neewa  he  gave  to  the  log  the 
slight  push  which  it  needed  to  set  it  free  of  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  63 

sunken  driftage.  Slowly  at  first  the  eddying  current 
carried  one  end  of  the  log  away  from  its  pier.  Then 
the  edge  of  the  main  current  caught  at  it,  viciously — 
and  so  suddenly  that  Miki  almost  lost  his  precarious 
footing,  the  log  gave  a  twist,  righted  itself,  and  began 
to  scud  down  stream  at  a  speed  that  would  have  made 
Challoner  hug  his  breath  had  he  been  in  their  position 
with  his  faithful  canoe. 

In  fact,  Challoner  was  at  this  very  moment  portag- 
ing the  rapids  below  the  waterfall.  To  have  set  his 
canoe  in  them  where  Miki  and  Neewa  were  gloriously 
sailing  he  would  have  considered  an  inexcusable  haz- 
ard, and  as  a  matter  of  safety  he  was  losing  the  better 
part  of  a  couple  of  hours  by  packing  his  outfit  through 
the  forest  to  a  point  half  a  mile  below.  That  half 
mile  was  to  the  cub  and  the  pup  a  show  which  was 
destined  to  live  in  their  memories  for  as  long  as  they 
were  alive. 

They  were  facing  each  other  about  amidships  of  the 
log,  Neewa  flattened  tight,  his  sharp  claws  dug  in 
like  hooks,  and  his  little  brown  eyes  half  starting 
from  his  head.  It  would  have  taken  a  crowbar  to 
wrench  him  from  the  log.  But  with  Miki  it  was  an 
open  question  from  the  beginning  whether  he  would 


64  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

weather  the  storm.  He  had  no  claws  that  he  could 
dig  into  the  wood,  and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
use  his  clumsy  legs  as  Neewa  used  his — like  two  pairs 
of  human  arms.  All  he  could  do  was  to  balance 
himself,  slipping  this  way  or  that  as  the  log  rolled 
or  swerved  in  its  course,  sometimes  lying  across  it 
and  sometimes  lengthwise,  and  every  moment  with 
the  jaws  of  uncertainty  open  wide  for  him.  Neewa's 
eyes  never  left  him  for  an  instant.  Had  they 
been  gimlets  they  would  have  bored  holes.  From 
the  acuteness  of  this  life-and-death  stare  one  would 
have  given  Neewa  credit  for  understanding  that  his 
own  personal  safety  depended  not  so  much  upon  his 
claws  and  his  hug  as  upon  Miki's  seamanship.  If 
Mild  went  overboard  there  would  be  left  but  one 
thing  for  him  to  do — and  that  would  be  to  follow. 
The  log,  being  larger  and  heavier  at  one  end  than 
at  the  other,  swept  on  without  turning  broadside, 
and  with  the  swiftness  and  appearance  of  a  huge 
torpedo.  While  Neewa's  back  was  turned  toward 
the  horror  of  frothing  water  and  roaring  rock  behind 
him,  Mild,  who  was  facing  it,  lost  none  of  its  spectac- 
ular beauty.  Now  and  then  the  log  shot  into  one 
of  the  white  masses  of  foam  and  for  an  instant  or  two 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  65 

would  utterly  disappear;  and  at  these  intervals  Miki 
would  hold  his  breath  and  close  his  eyes  while  Neewa 
dug  his  toes  in  still  deeper.  Once  the  log  grazed  a 
rock.  Six  niches  more  and  they  would  have  been 
without  a  ship.  Their  trip  was  not  half  over  before 
both  cub  and  pup  looked  like  two  round  balls  of 
lather  out  of  which  their  eyes  peered  wildly. 

Swiftly  the  roar  of  the  cataract  was  left  behind; 
the  huge  rocks  around  which  the  current  boiled  and 
twisted  with  a  ferocious  snarling  became  fewer;  there 
came  open  spaces  in  which  the  log  floated  smoothly 
and  without  convulsions,  and  then,  at  last,  the  quiet 
and  placid  flow  of  calm  water.  Not  until  then  did 
the  two  balls  of  suds  make  a  move.  For  the  first 
time  Neewa  saw  the  whole  of  the  thing  they  had 
passed  through,  and  Miki,  looking  down  stream,  saw 
the  quiet  shores  again,  the  deep  forest,  and  the  stream 
aglow  with  the  warm  sun.  He  drew  in  a  breath  that 
filled  his  whole  body  and  let  it  out  again  with  a  sigh 
of  relief  so  deep  and  sincere  that  it  blew  out  a  scatter 
of  foam  from  the  ends  of  his  nose  and  whiskers.  For 
the  first  time  he  became  conscious  of  his  own  discom- 
fort. One  of  his  hind  legs  was  twisted  under  him, 
and  a  foreleg  was  under  his  chest.  The  smoothness 


66  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

of  the  water  and  the  nearness  of  the  shores  gave  him 
confidence,  and  he  proceeded  to  straighten  himself. 
Unlike  Neewa  he  was  an  experienced  voyageur.  For 
more  than  a  month  he  had  travelled  steadily  with 
Challoner  in  his  canoe,  and  of  ordinarily  decent  water 
he  was  unafraid.  So  he  perked  up  a  little,  and  of- 
fered Neewa  a  congratulatory  yip  that  was  half  a 
whine. 

But  Neewa's  education  had  travelled  along  another 
line,  and  while  his  experience  in  a  canoe  had  been  con- 
fined to  that  day  he  did  know  what  a  log  was.  He 
knew  from  more  than  one  adventure  of  his  own  that 
a  log  in  the  water  is  the  next  thing  to  a  live  thing, 
and  that  its  capacity  for  playing  evil  jokes  was  beyond 
any  computation  that  he  had  ever  been  able  to  make. 
That  was  where  Miki's  store  of  knowledge  was  fatally 
defective.  Inasmuch  as  the  log  had  carried  them 
safely  through  the  worst  stretch  of  water  he  had  ever 
seen  he  regarded  it  in  the  light  of  a  first-class  canoe— 
with  the  exception  that  it  was  unpleasantly  rounded 
on  top.  But  this  little  defect  did  not  worry  him. 
To  Neewa's  horror  he  sat  up  boldly,  and  looked 
about  him. 

Instinctively  the  cub  hugged  the  log  still  closer, 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  67 

while  Miki  was  seized  with  an  overwhelming  desire 
to  shake  from  himself  the  mass  of  suds  in  which, 
with  the  exception  of  the  end  of  his  tail  and  his  eyes, 
he  was  completely  swathed.  He  had  often  shaken 
himself  in  the  canoe;  why  not  here?  Without  either 
asking  or  answering  the  question  he  did  it. 

Like  the  trap  of  a  gibbet  suddenly  sprung  by  the 
hangman,  the  log  instantly  responded  by  turning 
half  over.^  Without  so  much  as  a  wail  Miki  was  off 
like  a  shot,  hit  the  water  with  a  deep  and  solemn 
chug,  and  once  more  disappeared  as  completely  as 
if  he  had  been  made  of  lead. 

Finding  himself  completely  submerged  for  the  first 
time,  Neewa  hung  on  gloriously,  and  when  the  log 
righted  itself  again  he  was  tenaciously  hugging  his 
old  place,  all  the  froth  washed  from  him.  He  looked 
for  Miki — but  Miki  was  gone.  And  then  he  felt 
once  more  that  choking  drag  on  his  neck!  Of  neces- 
sity, because  his  head  was  pulled  in  the  direction  of 
the  rope,  he  saw  where  the  rope  disappeared  in  the 
water.  But  there  was  no  Miki.  The  pup  was  down 
too  far  for  Neewa  to  see.  With  the  drag  growing 
heavier  and  heavier — for  here  there  was  not  much 
current  to  help  Miki  along — Neewa  hung  on  like 


68  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

grim  death.  If  he  had  let  go,  and  had  joined  Miki 
in  the  water,  the  good  fortune  which  was  turning 
their  way  would  have  been  missed.  For  Miki, 
struggling  well  under  water,  was  serving  both  as  an 
anchor  and  a  rudder;  slowly  the  log  shifted  its  course, 
was  caught  in  a  beach-eddy,  and  drifted  in  close  to  a 
muddy  bank. 

With  one  wild  leap  Neewa  was  ashore.  Feeling 
the  earth  under  his  feet  he  started  to  run,  and  the 
result  was  that  Miki  came  up  slowly  through  the 
mire  and  spread  himself  out  like  an  overgrown  crus- 
tacean while  he  got  the  wind  back  into  his  lungs. 
Neewa,  sensing  the  fact  that  for  a  few  moments  his 
comrade  was  physically  unfit  for  travel,  shook  him- 
self, and  waited.  Miki  picked  up  quickly.  Within 
five  minutes  he  was  on  his  feet  shaking  himself  so 
furiously  that  Neewa  became  the  centre  of  a  shower 
of  mud  and  water. 

Had  they  remained  where  they  were,  Challoner 
would  have  found  them  an  hour  or  so  later,  for  he 
paddled  that  way,  close  inshore,  looking  for  their 
bodies.  It  may  be  that  the  countless  generations 
of  instinct  back  of  Neewa  warned  him  of  that  possi- 
bility, for  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  they  had 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  69 

landed  he  was  leading  the  way  into  the  forest,  and 
Miki  was  following.  It  was  a  new  adventure  for  the 
pup. 

But  Neewa  began  to  recover  his  good  cheer.  For 
him  the  forest  was  home  even  if  his  mother  was  miss- 
ing. After  his  maddening  experiences  with  Miki 
and  the  man-beast  the  velvety  touch  of  the  soft  pine- 
needles  under  his  feet  and  the  familiar  smells  of  the 
silent  places  filled  him  with  a  growing  joy.  He  was 
back  in  his  old  trails.  He  sniffed  the  air  and  pricked 
up  his  ears,  thrilled  by  the  enlivening  sensations  of 
knowing  that  he  was  once  more  the  small  master  of 
his  own  destiny.  It  was  a  new  forest,  but  Neewa 
was  undisturbed  by  this  fact.  All  forests  were  alike 
to  him,  inasmuch  as  several  hundred  thousand 
square  miles  were  included  in  his  domain  and  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  landmark  them  all. 

With  Miki  it  was  different.  He  not  only  began 
to  miss  Challoner  and  the  river,  but  became  more 
and  more  disturbed  the  farther  Neewa  led  him  into 
the  dark  and  mysterious  depths  of  the  timber.  At 
last  he  decided  to  set  up  a  vigorous  protest,  and  in 
line  with  this  decision  he  braced  himself  so  suddenly 
that  Neewa,  coming  to  the  end  of  the  rope,  flopped 


70  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

over  on  his  back  with  an  astonished  grunt.  Seizing 
his  advantage  Miki  turned,  and  tugging  with  the 
horse-like  energy  of  his  Mackenzie  father  he  started 
back  toward  the  river,  dragging  Neewa  after  him 
for  a  space  of  ten  or  fifteen  feet  before  the  cub  suc- 
ceeded in  regaining  his  feet. 

Then  the  battle  began.  With  their  bottoms 
braced  and  their  forefeet  digging  into  the  soft  earth, 
they  pulled  on  the  rope  in  opposite  directions  until 
their  necks  stretched  and  their  eyes  began  to  pop. 
Neewa's  pull  was  steady  and  unexcited,  while  Miki, 
dog-like,  yanked  and  convulsed  himself  in  sudden 
backward  jerks  that  made  Neewa  give  way  an  inch 
at  a  time.  It  was,  after  all,  only  a  question  as  to 
which  possessed  the  most  enduring  neck.  Under 
Neewa's  fat  there  was  as  yet  little  real  physical 
strength.  Miki  had  him  handicapped  there.  Under 
the  pup's  loose  hide  and  his  overgrown  bones  there 
was  a  lot  of  pull,  and  after  bracing  himself  heroically 
for  another  dozen  feet  Neewa  gave  up  the  contest  and 
followed  hi  the  direction  chosen  by  Miki. 

While  the  instincts  of  Neewa's  breed  would  have 
taken  him  back  to  the  river  as  straight  as  a  die,  Miki's 
intentions  were  better  than  was  his  sense  of  orienta- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  71 

tion.  Neewa  followed  in  a  sweeter  temper  when 
he  found  that  his  companion  was  making  an  un- 
reasonable circle  which  was  taking  them  a  little  more 
slowly,  but  just  as  surely,  away  from  the  danger-ridden 
stream.  At  the  end  of  another  quarter  of  an  hour 
Miki  was  utterly  lost;  he  sat  down  on  his  rump,  looked 
at  Neewa,  and  confessed  as  much — with  a  low  whine. 
Neewa  did  not  move.  His  sharp  little  eyes  were 
fixed  suddenly  on  an  object  that  hung  to  a  low  bush 
half  a  dozen  paces  from  them.  Before  the  man- 
beast's  appearance  the  cub  had  spent  three  quarters 
of  his  time  in  eating,  but  since  yesterday  morning 
he  had  not  swallowed  so  much  as  a  bug.  He  was 
completely  empty,  and  the  object  he  saw  hanging 
to  the  bush  set  every  salivary  gland  in  his  mouth 
working.  It  was  a  wasp's  nest.  Many  times  in 
his  young  life  he  had  seen  Noozak,  his  mother,  go 
up  to  nests  like  that,  tear  them  down,  crush  them 
under  her  big  paw,  and  then  invite  him  to  the  feast 
of  dead  wasps  within.  For  at  least  a  month  wasps 
had  been  included  in  his  daily  fare,  and  they  were  as 
good  as  anything  he  knew  of.  He  approached  the 
nest;  Miki  followed.  When  they  were  within  three 
feet  of  it  Miki  began  to  take  notice  of  a  very  distinct 


72  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

and  peculiarly  disquieting  buzzing  sound.  Neewa 
was  not  at  all  alarmed;  judging  the  distance  of  the 
nest  from  the  ground,  he  rose  on  his  hind  feet,  raised 
his  arms,  and  gave  it  a  fatal  tug. 

Instantly  the  drone  which  Miki  had  heard  changed 
into  the  angry  buzzing  of  a  saw.  Quick  as  a  flash 
Neewa's  mother  would  have  had  the  nest  under  ^her 
paws  and  the  life  crushed  out  of  it,  while  Neewa's 
tug  had  only  served  partly  to  dislodge  the  home  of 
Ahmoo  and  his  dangerous  tribe.  And  it  happened 
that  Ahmoo  was  at  home  with  three  quarters  of  his 
warriors.  Before  Neewa  could  give  the  nest  a  second 
tug  they  were  piling  out  of  it  in  a  cloud  and  suddenly 
a  wild  yell  of  agony  rose  out  of  Miki.  Ahmoo  him- 
self had  landed  on  the  end  of  the  dog's  nose.  Neewa 
made  no  sound,  but  stood  for  a  moment  swiping  at 
his  face  with  both  paws,  while  Miki,  still  yelling,  ran 
the  end  of  his  crucified  nose  into  the  ground.  In 
another  moment  every  fighter  in  Ahmoo's  army  was 
busy.  Suddenly  setting  up  a  bawling  on  his  own 
account  Neewa  turned  tail  to  the  nest  and  ran. 
Miki  was  not  a  hair  behind  him.  In  every  square 
inch  of  his  tender  hide  he  felt  the  red-hot  thrust  of 
a  needle.  It  was  Neewa  that  made  the  most  noise. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  73 

His  voice  was  one  continuous  bawl,  and  to  this  bass 
Miki's  soprano  wailing  added  the  touch  which  would 
have  convinced  any  passing  Indian  that  the  loup- 
garou  devils  were  having  a  dance. 

Now  that  their  foes  were  in  disorderly  flight  the 
wasps,  who  are  rather  a  chivalrous  enemy,  would 
have  returned  to  their  upset  fortress  had  not  Miki, 
in  his  mad  flight,  chosen  one  side  of  a  small  sapling 
and  Neewa  the  other — a  misadventure  that  stopped 
them  with  a  force  almost  sufficient  to  break  their 
necks.  Thereupon  a  few  dozen  of  Ahmoo's  rear 
guard  started  in  afresh.  With  his  fighting  blood 
at  last  aroused,  Neewa  swung  out  and  caught  Miki 
where  there  was  almost  no  hair  on  his  rump.  Al- 
ready half  blinded,  and  so  wrought  up  with  pain 
and  terror  that  he  had  lost  all  sense  of  judgment  or 
understanding,  Miki  believed  that  the  sharp  dig  of 
Neewa's  razor-like  claws  was  a  deeper  thrust  than 
usual  of  the  buzzing  horrors  that  overwhelmed  him, 
and  with  a  final  shriek  he  proceeded  to  throw  a  fit. 

It  was  the  fit  that  saved  them.  In  his  maniacal 
contortions  he  swung  around  to  Neewa's  side  of  the 
sapling,  when,  with  their  halter  once  more  free  from 
impediment,  Neewa  bolted  for  safety.  Miki  followed, 


74  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

yelping  at  every  jump.  No  longer  did  Neewa  feel 
a  horror  of  the  river.  The  instinct  of  his  kind  told 
him  that  he  wanted  water,  and  wanted  it  badly. 
As  straight  as  Challoner  might  have  set  his  course 
by  a  compass  he  headed  for  the  stream,  but  he  had 
proceeded  only  a  few  hundred  feet  when  they  came 
upon  a  tiny  creek  across  which  either  of  them  could 
have  jumped.  Neewa  jumped  into  the  water,  which 
was  four  or  five  inches  deep,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  Miki  voluntarily  took  a  plunge.  For  a 
long  time  they  lay  in  the  cooling  rill. 

The  light  of  day  was  dim  and  hazy  before  Miki's 
eyes,  and  he  was  beginning  to  swell  from  the  tip  of 
his  nose  to  the  end  of  his  bony  tail.  Neewa,  being 
so  much  fat,  suffered  less.  He  could  still  see,  and, 
as  the  painful  hours  passed,  a  number  of  things  were 
adjusting  themselves  in  his  brain.  All  this  had 
begun  with  the  man-beast.  It  was  the  man-beast 
who  had  taken  his  mother  from  him.  It  was  the 
man-beast  who  had  chucked  him  into  the  dark  sack, 
and  it  was  the  man-beast  who  had  fastened  the  rope 
around  his  neck.  Slowly  the  fact  was  beginning  to 
impinge  itself  upon  him  that  the  rope  was  to  blame 
for  everything. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  75 

After  a  long  time  they  dragged  themselves  out  of 
the  rivulet  and  found  a  soft,  dry  hollow  at  the  foot 
of  a  big  tree.  Even  to  Neewa,  who  had  the  use  of 
his  eyes,  it  was  growing  dark  in  the  deep  forest.  The 
sun  was  far  in  the  west.  And  the  air  was  growing 
chilly.  Flat  on  his  belly,  with  his  swollen  head  be- 
tween his  fore  paws,  Miki  whined  plaintively. 

Again  and  again  Neewa's  eyes  went  to  the  rope 
as  the  big  thought  developed  itself  in  his  head.  He 
whined.  It  was  partly  a  yearning  for  his  mother, 
partly  a  response  to  Miki.  He  drew  closer  to  the 
pup,  filled  with  the  irresistible  desire  for  comrade- 
ship. After  all,  it  was  not  Miki  who  was  to  blame. 
It  was  the  man-beast — and  the  rope  I 

The  gloom  of  evening  settled  more  darkly  about 
them,  and  snuggling  himself  still  closer  to  the  pup 
Neewa  drew  the  rope  between  his  fore  paws.  With 
a  little  snarl  he  set  his  teeth  in  it.  And  then,  steadily, 
he  began  to  chew.  Now  and  then  he  growled,  and 
in  the  growl  there  was  a  peculiarly  communicative 
note,  as  if  he  wished  to  say  to  Miki: 

"Don't  you  see? — I'm  chewing  this  thing  in  two. 
I'll  have  it  done  by  morning.  Cheer  up!  There's 
surely  a  better  day  coming." 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 


^""    ~^HE  morning  after  their  painful  experience 
with  the  wasp's  nest,  Neewa  and  Miki  rose 

.  -^-  on  four  pairs  of  stiff  and  swollen  legs  to 
greet  a  new  day  in  the  deep  and  mysterious  forest 
into  which  the  accident  of  the  previous  day  had 
thrown  them.  The  spirit  of  irrepressible  youth  was 
upon  them,  and,  though  Miki  was  so  swollen  from 
the  stings  of  the  wasps  that  his  lank  body  and  over- 
grown legs  were  more  grotesque  than  ever,  he  was 
in  no  way  daunted  from  the  quest  of  further  ad- 
venture. 

The  pup's  face  was  as  round  as  a  moon,  and  his 
head  was  puffed  up  until  Neewa  might  reasonably 
have  had  a  suspicion  that  it  was  on  the  point  of  ex- 
ploding. But  Miki's  eyes — as  much  as  could  be 
seen  of  them — were  as  bright  as  ever,  and  his  one 
good  ear  and  his  one  half  ear  stood  up  hopefully  as 
he  waited  for  the  cub  to  give  some  sign  of  what  they 
were  going  to  do.  The  poison  in  his  system  no  longer 

76 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  77 

gave  him  discomfort.  He  felt  several  sizes  too 
large — but,  otherwise,  quite  well. 

Neewa,  because  of  his  fat,  exhibited  fewer  effects 
of  his  battle  with  the  wasps.  His  one  outstanding 
defect  was  an  entirely  closed  eye.  With  the  other, 
wide  open  and  alert,  he  looked  about  him.  In  spite 
of  his  one  bad  eye  and  his  stiff  legs  he  was  inspired 
with  the  optimism  of  one  who  at  last  sees  fortune 
turning  his  way.  He  was  rid  of  the  man-beast,  who 
had  killed  his  mother;  the  forests  were  before  him 
again,  open  and  inviting,  and  the  rope  with  which 
Challoner  had  tied  him  and  Miki  together  he  had 
successfully  gnawed  in  two  during  the  night.  Hav- 
ing dispossessed  himself  of  at  least  two  evils  it  would 
not  have  surprised  him  much  if  he  had  seen  Noozak, 
his  mother,  coming  up  from  out  of  the  shadows  of 
the  trees.  Thought  of  her  made  him  whine.  And 
Miki,  facing  the  vast  loneliness  of  his  new  world, 
and  thinking  of  his  master,  whined  in  reply. 

Both  were  hungry.  The  amazing  swiftness  with 
which  their  misfortunes  had  descended  upon  them 
had  given  them  no  time  in  which  to  eat.  To  Miki 
the  change  was  more  than  astonishing;  it  was  over- 
whelming, and  he  held  his  breath  in  anticipation  of 


78  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

some  new  evil  while  Neewa  scanned  the  forest  about 
them. 

As  if  assured  by  this  survey  that  everything  was 
right,  Neewa  turned  his  back  to  the  sun,  which  had 
been  his  mother's  custom,  and  set  out. 

Miki  followed.  Not  until  then  did  he  discover 
that  every  joint  in  his  body  had  apparently  disap- 
peared. His  neck  was  stiff,  his  legs  were  like  stilts, 
and  five  times  in  as  many  minutes  he  stubbed  his 
clumsy  toes  and  fell  down  in  his  efforts  to  keep  up 
with  the  cub.  On  top  of  this  his  eyes  were  so  nearly 
closed  that  his  vision  was  bad,  and  the  fifth  time  he 
stumbled  he  lost  sight  of  Neewa  entirely,  and  sent 
out  a  protesting  wail.  Neewa  stopped  and  began 
prodding  with  his  nose  under  a  rotten  log.  When 
Miki  came  up  Neewa  was  fiat  on  his  belly,  licking 
up  a  colony  of  big  red  vinegar  ants  as  fast  as  he  could 
catch  them.  Miki  studied  the  proceeding  for  some 
moments.  It  soon  dawned  upon  him  that  Neewa 
was  eating  something,  but  for  the  life  of  him  he 
couldn't  make  out  what  it  was.  Hungrily  he  nosed 
close  to  Neewa's  foraging  snout.  He  licked  with 
his  tongue  where  Neewa  licked,  and  he  got  only  dirt. 
And  all  the  time  Neewa  was  giving  his  jolly  little 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  79 

grunts  of  satisfaction.  It  was  ten  minutes  before 
he  hunted  out  the  last  ant  and  went  on. 

A  little  later  they  came  to  a  small  open  space 
where  the  ground  was  wet,  and  after  sniffing  about 
a  bit,  and  focussing  his  one  good  eye  here  and  there, 
Neewa  suddenly  began  digging.  Very  shortly  he 
drew  out  of  the  ground  a  white  object  about  the 
size  of  a  man's  thumb  and  began  to  crunch  it  rave- 
nously between  his  jaws.  Miki  succeeded  in  captur- 
ing a  fair  sized  bit  of  it.  Disappointment  followed 
fast.  The  thing  was  like  wood;  after  rolling  it  in  his 
mouth  a  few  times  he  dropped  it  in  disgust,  and 
Neewa  finished  the  remnant  of  the  root  with  a  thank- 
ful grunt. 

They  proceeded.  For  two  heartbreaking  hours 
Miki  followed  at  Neewa's  heels,  the  void  in  his 
stomach  increasing  as  the  swelling  in  his  body 
diminished.  His  hunger  was  becoming  a  torture. 
Yet  not  a  bit  to  eat  could  he  find,  while  Neewa  at 
every  few  steps  apparently  discovered  something  to 
devour.  At  the  end  of  the  two  hours  the  cub's  bill 
of  fare  had  grown  to  considerable  proportions.  It 
included,  among  other  things,  half  a  dozen  green  and 
black  beetles;  numberless  bugs,  both  hard  and  soft; 


80  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

whole  colonies  of  red  and  black  ants;  several  white 
grubs  dug  out  of  the  heart  of  decaying  logs;  a  handful 
of  snails;  a  young  frog;  the  egg  of  a  ground-plover 
that  had  failed  to  hatch;  and,  in  the  vegetable  line, 
the  roots  of  two  camas  and  one  skunk  cabbage. 
Now  and  then  he  pulled  down  tender  poplar  shoots 
and  nipped  the  ends  off.  Likewise  he  nibbled  spruce 
and  balsam  gum  whenever  he  found  it,  and  occasion- 
ally added  to  his  breakfast  a  bit  of  tender  grass. 

A  number  of  these  things  Mild  tried.  He  would 
have  eaten  the  frog,  but  Neewa  was  ahead  of  him 
there.  The  spruce  and  balsam  gum  clogged  up  his 
teeth  and  almost  made  him  vomit  because  of  its 
bitterness.  Between  a  snail  and  a  stone  he  could 
find  little  difference,  and  as  the  one  bug  he  tried 
happened  to  be  that  asafoetida-like  creature  known 
as  a  stink-bug  he  made  no  further  efforts  in  that 
direction.  He  also  bit  off  a  tender  tip  from  a  ground- 
shoot,  but  instead  of  a  young  poplar  it  was  Fox-bite, 
and  shrivelled  up  his  tongue  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
At  last  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that,  up  to  date, 
the  one  thing  in  Neewa's  menu  that  he  could  eat  was 
grass. 

In  the  face  of  his  own  starvation  his  companion 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  81 

grew  happier  as  he  added  to  the  strange  collection 
in  his  stomach.  In  fact*  Neewa  considered  himself 
in  clover  and  was  grunting  his  satisfaction  contin- 
ually, especially  as  his  bad  eye  was  beginning  to  open 
and  he  could  see  things  better.  Half  a  dozen  times 
when  he  found  fresh  ant  nests  he  invited  Miki  to  the 
feast  with  excited  little  squeals.  Until  noon  Miki 
followed  like  a  faithful  satellite  at  his  heels.  The 
end  came  when  Neewa  deliberately  dug  into  a  nest 
inhabited  by  four  huge  bumble-bees,  smashed  them 
all,  and  ate  them. 

From  that  moment  something  impressed  upon 
Miki  that  he  must  do  his  own  hunting.  With  the 
thought  came  a  new  thrill.  His  eyes  were  fairly 
open  now,  and  much  of  the  stiffness  had  gone  from 
his  legs.  The  blood  of  his  Mackenzie  father  and  of 
his  half  Spitz  and  half  Airedale  mother  rose  up  in 
him  in  swift  and  immediate  demand,  and  he  began 
to  quest  about  for  himself.  He  found  a  warm  scent, 
and  poked  about  until  a  partridge  went  up  with  a 
tremendous  thunder  of  wings.  It  startled  him,  but 
added  to  the  thrill.  A  few  minutes  later,  nosing 
under  a  pile  of  brush,  he  came  face  to  face  with  his 
dinner. 


82  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

It  was  Wahboo,  the  baby  rabbit.  Instantly  Miki 
was  at  him,  and  had  a  firm  hold  at  the  back  of  Wah- 
boo's  back.  Neewa,  hearing  the  smashing  of  the 
brush  and  the  squealing  of  the  rabbit,  stopped  catch- 
ing ants  and  hustled  toward  the  scene  of  action. 
The  squealing  ceased  quickly  and  Miki  backed  him- 
self out  and  faced  Neewa  with  Wahboo  held  triumph- 
antly in  his  jaws.  The  young  rabbit  had  already 
given  his  last  kick,  and  with  a  fierce  show  of  growl- 
ing Miki  began  tearing  the  fur  off.  Neewa  edged 
in,  grunting  affably.  Miki  snarled  more  fiercely. 
Neewa,  undaunted,  continued  to  express  his  over- 
whelming regard  for  Miki  in  low  and  supplicating 
grunts — and  smelled  the  rabbit.  The  snarl  in  Miki's 
throat  died  away.  He  may  have  remembered  that 
Neewa  had  invited  him  more  than  once  to  partake 
of  his  ants  and  bugs.  Together  they  ate  the  rabbit. 
Not  until  the  last  bit  of  flesh  and  the  last  tender  bone 
were  gone  did  the  feast  end,  and  then  Neewa  sat 
back  on  his  round  bottom  and  stuck  out  his  little 
red  tongue  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  lost  his 
mother.  It  was  the  cub  sign  of  a  full  stomach  and 
a  blissful  mind.  He  could  see  nothing  to  be  more 
desired  at  the  present  time  than  a  nap,  and  stretch- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  83 

ing  himself  languidly  he  began  looking  about  for  a 
tree. 

Miki,  on  the  other  hand,  was  inspired  to  new  ac- 
tion by  the  pleasurable  sensation  of  being  comfort- 
ably filled.  Inasmuch  as  Neewa  chewed  his  food 
very  carefully,  while  Miki,  paying  small  attention 
to  mastication,  swallowed  it  in  chunks,  the  pup  had 
succeeded  in  getting  away  with  about  four  fifths  of 
the  rabbit.  So  he  was  no  longer  hungry.  But  he 
was  more  keenly  alive  to  his  changed  environment 
than  at  any  time  since  he  and  Neewa  had  fallen  out 
of  Challoner's  canoe  into  the  rapids.  For  the  first 
time  he  had  killed^  and  for  the  first  time  he  had 
tasted  warm  blood,  and  the  combination  added  to 
his  existence  an  excitement  that  was  greater  than 
any  desire  he  might  have  possessed  to  lie  down  in  a 
sunny  spot  and  sleep.  Now  that  he  had  learned  the 
game,  the  hunting  instinct  trembled  in  every  fibre 
of  his  small  being.  He  would  have  gone  on  hunting 
until  his  legs  gave  way  under  him  if  Neewa  had  not 
found  a  napping-place. 

Astonished  half  out  of  his  wits  he  watched  Neewa 
as  he  leisurely  climbed  the  trunk  of  a  big  poplar. 
He  had  seen  squirrels  climb  trees — just  as  he  had 


84  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

seen  birds  fly — but  Neewa's  performance  held  him 
breathless;  and  not  until  the  cub  had  stretched  him- 
self out  comfortably  in  a  crotch  did  Miki  express 
himself.  Then  he  gave  an  incredulous  yelp,  sniffed 
at  the  butt  of  the  tree,  and  made  a  half-hearted  ex- 
periment at  the  thing  himself.  One  flop  on  his 
back  convinced  him  that  Neewa  was  the  tree-climber 
of  the  partnership.  Chagrined,  he  wandered  back 
fifteen  or  twenty  feet  and  sat  down  to  study  the  sit- 
uation. He  could  not  perceive  that  Neewa  had  any 
special  business  up  the  tree.  Certainly  he  was  not 
hunting  for  bugs.  He  yelped  half  a  dozen  times, 
but  Neewa  made  no  answer.  At  last  he  gave  it 
up  and  flopped  himself  down  with  a  disconsolate 
whine.  ' 

But  it  was  not  to  sleep.  He  was  ready  and  anxious 
to  go  on.  He  wanted  to  explore  still  further  the 
mysterious  and  fascinating  depths  of  the  forest.  He 
no  longer  felt  the  strange  fear  that  had  been  upon 
him  before  he  killed  the  rabbit.  In  two  minutes 
under  the  brush-heap  Nature  had  performed  one 
of  her  miracles  of  education.  In  those  two  minutes 
Miki  had  risen  out  of  whimpering  puppyhood  to  new 
power  and  understanding.  He  had  passed  that 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  85 

elemental  stage  which  his  companionship  with  Chal- 
loner  had  prolonged.  He  had  killed,  and  the  hot 
thrill  of  it  set  fire  to  every  instinct  that  was  in  him. 
In  the  half  hour  during  which  he  lay  flat  on  his  belly, 
his  head  alert  and  listening,  while  Neewa  slept,  he 
passed  half  way  from  puppyhood  to  dogdom.  He 
would  never  know  that  Hela,  his  Mackenzie  hound 
father,  was  the  mightiest  hunter  in  all  the  reaches  of 
the  Little  Fox  country,  and  that  alone  he  had  torn 
down  a  bull  caribou.  But  he  felt  it.  There  was 
something  insistent  and  demanding  in  the  call.  And 
because  he  was  answering  that  call,  and  listening 
eagerly  to  the  whispering  voices  of  the  forest,  his 
quick  ears  caught  the  low,  chuckling  monotone  of 
Kawook,  the  porcupine. 

Miki  lay  very  still.  A  moment  later  he  heard  the 
soft  clicking  of  quills,  and  then  Kawook  came  out 
in  the  open  and  stood  up  on  his  hind  feet  in  a  patch 
of  sunlight. 

For  thirteen  years  Kawook  had  lived  undisturbed 
in  this  particular  part  of  the  wilderness,  and  in  his 
old  age  he  weighed  thirty  pounds  if  he  weighed  an 
ounce.  On  this  afternoon,  coming  for  his  late  din- 
ner, he  was  feeling  even  more  than  usually  happy. 


86  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

His  eyesight  at  best  was  dim.  Nature  had  never 
intended  him  to  see  very  far,  and  had  therefore 
quilted  him  heavily  with  the  barbed  shafts  of  his 
protecting  armour.  Thirty  feet  away  he  was  entirely 
oblivious  of  Miki,  at  least  apparently  so;  and  Miki 
hugged  the  ground  closer,  warned  by  the  swiftly 
developing  instinct  within  him  that  here  was  a 
creature  it  would  be  unwise  to  attack. 

For  perhaps  a  minute  Kawook  stood  up,  chuckling 
his  tribal  song  without  any  visible  movement  of  his 
body.  He  stood  profile  to  Miki,  like  a  fat  alderman. 
He  was  so  fat  that  his  stomach  bulged  out  in  front 
like  the  half  of  a  balloon,  and  over  this  stomach  his 
hands  were  folded  in  a  peculiarly  human  way,  so 
that  he  looked  more  like  an  old  she-porcupine  than 
a  master  in  his  tribe. 

It  was  not  until  then  that  Miki  observed  Iskwasis, 
the  young  female  porcupine,  who  had  poked  herself 
slyly  out  from  under  a  bush  near  Kawook.  In  spite 
of  his  years  the  red  thrill  of  romance  was  not  yet 
gone  from  the  old  fellow's  bones,  and  he  immediately 
started  to  give  an  exhibition  of  his  good  breeding 
and  elegance.  He  began  with  his  ludicrous  love- 
making  dance,  hopping  from  one  foot  to  the  other 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  87 

until  his  fat  stomach  shook,  and  chuckling  louder 
than  ever.  The  charms  of  Iskwasis  were  indeed 
sufficient  to  turn  the  head  of  an  older  beau  than 
Kawook.  She  was  a  distinctive  blonde;  in  other 
words,  one  of  those  unusual  creatures  of  her  kind,  an 
albino.  Her  nose  was  pink,  the  palms  of  her  little 
feet  were  pink,  and  each  of  her  pretty  pink  eyes  was 
set  in  an  iris  of  sky-blue.  It  was  evident  that  she 
did  not  regard  old  Kawook's  passion-dance  with 
favour  and  sensing  this  fact  Kawook  changed  his 
tactics  and  falling  on  all  four  feet  began  to  chase  his 
spiky  tail  as  if  he  had  suddenly  gone  mad.  When 
he  stopped,  and  looked  to  see  what  effect  he  had  made 
he  was  clearly  knocked  out  by  the  fact  that  Iskwasis 
had  disappeared. 

For  another  minute  he  sat  stupidly,  without  mak- 
ing a  sound.  Then  to  Miki's  consternation  he 
started  straight  for  the  tree  in  which  Neewa  was 
sleeping.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  Kawook's 
dinner-tree,  and  he  began  climbing  it,  talking  to 
himself  all  the  time.  Miki's  hair  began  to  stand  on 
end.  He  did  not  know  that  Kawook,  like  all  his 
kind,  was  the  best-natured  fellow  in  the  world,  and 
had  never  harmed  anything  in  his  life  unless  assaulted 


88  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

first.  Lacking  this  knowledge  he  set  up  a  sudden 
frenzy  of  barking  to  warn  Neewa. 

Neewa  roused  himself  slowly,  and  when  he  opened 
his  eyes  he  was  looking  into  a  spiky  face  that  sent 
him  into  a  convulsion  of  alarm.  With  a  suddenness 
that  came  within  an  ace  of  toppling  him  from  his 
crotch  he  swung  over  and  scurried  higher  up  the 
tree.  Kawook  was  not  at  all  excited.  Now  that 
Iskwasis  was  gone  he  was  entirely  absorbed  in  the 
anticipation  of  his  dinner.  He  continued  to  clamber 
slowly  upward,  and  at  this  the  horrified  Neewa 
backed  himself  out  on  a  limb  in  order  that  Kawook 
might  have  an  unobstructed  trail  up  the  tree. 

Unfortunately  for  Neewa  it  was  on  this  limb  that 
Kawook  had  eaten  his  last  meal,  and  he  began  work- 
ing himself  out  on  it,  still  apparently  oblivious  of  the 
fact  that  the  cub  was  on  the  same  branch.  At  this 
Miki  sent  up  such  a  series  of  shrieking  yelps  from 
below  that  Kawook  seemed  at  last  to  realize  that 
something  unusual  was  going  on.  He  peered  down 
at  Miki  who  was  making  vain  efforts  to  jump  up  the 
trunk  of  the  tree;  then  he  turned  and,  for  the  first 
time,  contemplated  Neewa  with  some  sign  of  interest. 
Neewa  was  hugging  the  limb  with  both  forearms 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  89 

and  both  hind  legs.  To  retreat  another  foot  on  the 
branch  that  was  already  bending  dangerously  under 
his  weight  seemed  impossible. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Kawook  began  to  scold 
fiercely.  With  a  final  frantic  yelp  Miki  sat  back  on 
his  haunches  and  watched  the  thrilling  drama  above 
him.  A  little  at  a  time  Kawook  advanced,  and  inch 
by  inch  Neewa  retreated,  until  at  last  he  rolled  clean 
over  and  was  hanging  with  his  back  toward  the 
ground.  It  was  then  that  Kawook  ceased  his  scold- 
ing and  calmly  began  eating  his  dinner.  For  two 
or  three  minutes  Neewa  kept  his  hold.  Twice  he 
made  efforts  to  pull  himself  up  so  that  he  could  get 
the  branch  under  him.  Then  his  hind  feet  slipped. 
For  a  dozen  seconds  he  hung  with  his  two  front 
paws — then  shot  down  through  fifteen  feet  of  space 
to  the  ground.  Close  to  Miki  he  landed  with  a  thud 
that  knocked  the  wind  out  of  him.  He  rose  with  a 
grunt,  took  one  dazed  look  up  the  tree,  and  without 
further  explanation  to  Miki  began  to  leg  it  deeper 
into  the  forest — straight  into  the  face  of  the  great 
adventure  which  was  to  be  the  final  test  for  these  two. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

NOT  until  he  had  covered  at  least  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  did  Neewa  stop. 
To  Miki  it  seemed  as  though  they  had 
come  suddenly  out  of  day  into  the  gloom  of  evening. 
That  part  of  the  forest  into  which  Neewa's  flight  had 
led  them  was  like  a  vast,  mysterious  cavern.  Even 
Challoner  would  have  paused  there,  awed  by  the 
grandeur  of  its  silence,  held  spellbound  by  the  enig- 
matical whispers  that  made  up  its  only  sound.  The 
sun  was  still  high  in  the  heavens,  but  not  a  ray  of  it 
penetrated  the  dense  green  canopy  of  spruce  and 
balsam  that  hung  like  a  wall  over  the  heads  of  Miki 
and  Neewa.  About  them  was  no  bush,  no  under- 
growth; under  their  feet  was  not  a  flower  or  a  spear 
of  grass.  Nothing  but  a  thick,  soft  carpet  of  velvety 
brown  needles  under  which  all  life  was  smothered. 
It  was  as  if  the  forest  nymphs  had  made  of  this  their 
bedchamber,  sheltered  through  all  the  seasons  of 
the  year  from  wind  and  rain  and  snow;  or  else  that 

90 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  91 

the  were-wolf  people — the  loup-garou — had  chosen 
it  as  their  hiding-place  and  from  its  weird  and  gloomy 
fastnesses  went  forth  on  their  ghostly  missions 
among  the  sons  of  men. 

Not  a  bird  twittered  in  the  trees.  There  was  no 
flutter  of  life  in  their  crowded  branches.  Everything 
was  so  still  that  Miki  heard  the  excited  throbbing 
of  life  in  his  own  body.  He  looked  at  Neewa,  and  in 
the  gloom  the  cub's  eyes  were  glistening  with  a  strange 
fire.  Neither  of  them  was  afraid,  yet  in  that  cavern- 
ous silence  their  comradeship  was  born  anew,  and 
in  it  there  was  something  now  that  crept  down  into 
their  wild  little  souls  and  filled  the  emptiness  that 
was  left  by  the  death  of  Neewa's  mother  and  the  loss 
of  Miki's  master.  The  pup  whined  gently,  and  in 
his  throat  Neewa  made  a  purring  sound  and  followed 
it  with  a  squeaky  grunt  that  was  like  the  grunt  of  a 
little  pig.  They  edged  nearer,  and  stood  shoulder  to 
shoulder  facing  their  world.  They  went  on  after  a 
little,  like  two  children  exploring  the  mystery  of  an 
old  and  abandoned  house.  They  were  not  hunting, 
yet  every  hunting  instinct  in  their  bodies  was  awake, 
and  they  stopped  frequently  to  peer  about  them, 
and  listen,  and  scent  the  air. 


92  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

To  Neewa  it  all  brought  back  a  memory  of  the 
black  cavern  in  which  he  was  born.  Would  Noozak, 
his  mother,  come  up  presently  out  of  one  of  those 
dark  forest  aisles?  Was  she  sleeping  here,  as  she  had 
slept  in  the  darkness  of  their  den?  The  questions 
may  have  come  vaguely  in  his  mind.  For  it  was  like 
the  cavern,  in  that  it  was  deathly  still;  and  a  short 
distance  away  its  gloom  thickened  into  black  pits. 
Such  a  place  the  Indians  called  muhnedoo — a  spot  in 
the  forest  blasted  of  all  life  by  the  presence  of  devils; 
for  only  devils  would  grow  trees  so  thick  that  sun- 
light never  penetrated.  And  only  owls  held  the 
companionship  of  the  evil  spirits. 

Where  Neewa  and  Miki  stood  a  grown  wolf  would 
have  paused,  and  turned  back;  the  fox  would  have 
slunk  away,  hugging  the  ground;  even  the  murderous- 
hearted  little  ermine  would  have  peered  in  with  his 
beady  red  eyes,  unafraid,  but  turned  by  instinct 
back  into  the  open  timber.  For  here,  in  spite  of  the 
stillness  and  the  gloom,  there  was  life.  It  was  beating 
and  waiting  in  the  ambush  of  those  black  pits.  It 
was  rousing  itself,  even  as  Neewa  and  Miki  went  on 
deeper  into  the  silence,  and  eyes  that  were  like  round 
balls  were  beginning  to  glow  with  a  greenish  fire. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  93 

Still  there  was  no  sound,  no  movement  in  the  dense 
overgrowth  of  the  trees.  Like  the  imps  of  muhnedoo 
the  monster  owls  looked  down,  gathering  their  slow 
wits — and  waiting. 

And  then  a  huge  shadow  floated  out  of  the  dark 
chaos  and  passed  so  close  over  the  heads  of  Neewa 
and  Miki  that  they  heard  the  menacing  purr  of  giant 
wings.  As  the  wraith-like  creature  disappeared 
there  came  back  to  them  a  hiss  and  the  grating  snap 
of  a  powerful  beak.  It  sent  a  shiver  through  Miki. 
The  instinct  that  had  been  fighting  to  rouse  itself 
within  him  flared  up  like  a  powder-flash.  Instantly 
he  sensed  the  nearness  of  an  unknown  and  appalling 
danger. 

There  was  sound  about  them  now — movement  in 
the  trees,  ghostly  tremours  in  the  air,  and  the  crack- 
ling, metallic  snap — snap — snap  over  their  heads. 
Again  Miki  saw  the  great  shadow  come  and  go .  It  was 
followed  by  a  second,  and  a  third,  until  the  vault 
under  the  trees  seemed  filled  with  shadows;  and  with 
each  shadow  came  nearer  that  grating  menace  of 
powerfully  beaked  jaws.  Like  the  wolf  and  the  fox 
he  cringed  down,  hugging  the  earth.  But  it  was  no 
longer  with  the  whimpering  fear  of  the  pup.  His 


94  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

muscles  were  drawn  tight,  and  with  a  snarl  he  bared 
his  fangs  when  one  of  the  owls  swooped  so  low  that  he 
felt  the  beat  of  its  wings.  Neewa  responded  with  a 
sniff  that  a  little  later  in  his  life  would  have  been  the 
defiant  wkoqf  of  his  mother.  Bear-like  he  was  stand- 
ing up.  And  it  was  upon  him  that  one  of  the  shadows 
descended — a  monstrous  feathered  bolt  straight  out 
of  darkness. 

Six  feet  away  Miki's  blazing  eyes  saw  his  comrade 
smothered  under  a  gray  mass,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  he  was  held  appalled  and  lifeless  by  the  thunder- 
ous beat  of  the  gargantuan  wings.  No  sound  came 
from  Neewa.  Flung  on  his  back,  he  was  digging 
his  claws  into  feathers  so  thick  and  soft  that  they 
seemed  to  have  no  heart  or  flesh.  He  felt  upon  him 
the  presence  of  the  Thing  that  was  death.  The  beat 
of  the  wings  was  like  the  beat  of  clubs:  they  drove 
the  breath  out  of  his  body,  they  blinded  his  senses, 
yet  he  continued  to  tear  fiercely  with  his  claws  into 
a  fleshless  breast. 

In  his  first  savage  swoop  Oohoomisew,  whose 
great  wings  measured  five  feet  from  tip  to  tip,  had 
missed  his  death-grip  by  the  fraction  of  an  inch. 
His  powerful  talons  that  would  have  buried  them- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  95 

selves  like  knives  in  Neewa's  vitals  closed  too  soon, 
and  were  filled  with  the  cub's  thick  hair  and  loose 
hide.  Now  he  was  beating  his  prey  down  with  his 
wings  until  the  right  moment  came  for  him  to  finish 
the  killing  with  the  terrific  stabbing  of  his  beak. 
Half  a  minute  of  that  and  Neewa's  face  would  be 
torn  into  pieces. 

It  was  the  fact  that  Neewa  made  no  sound,  that 
no  cry  came  from  him,  that  brought  Miki  to  his  feet 
with  his  lips  drawn  back  and  a  snarl  in  his  throat. 
All  at  once  fear  went  out  of  him  and  in  its  place  came 
a  wild  and  almost  joyous  exultation.  He  recognized 
their  enemy — a  bird.  To  him  birds  were  a  prey, 
and  not  a  menace.  A  dozen  times  in  their  journey 
down  from  the  Upper  Country  Challoner  had  shot 
big  Canada  geese  and  huge-winged  cranes.  Miki 
had  eaten  their  flesh.  Twice  he  had  pursued  wounded 
cranes,  yapping  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  they  had 
run  from  him.  He  did  not  bark  or  yelp  now.  Like 
a  flash  he  launched  himself  into  the  feathered  mass 
of  the  owl.  His  fourteen  pounds  of  flesh  and  bone 
landed  with  the  force  of  a  stone,  and  Oohoomisew 
was  torn  from  his  hold  and  flung  with  a  great  flutter 
of  wings  upon  his  side. 


96  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Before  he  could  recover  his  balance  Miki  was  at 
him  again,  striking  full  at  his  head,  where  he 
had  struck  at  the  wounded  crane.  Oohoomisew 
went  flat  on  his  back — and  for  the  first  time 
Miki  let  out  of  his  throat  a  series  of  savage  and  snarl- 
ing yelps.  It  was  a  new  sound  to  Oohoomisew  and 
his  blood-thirsty  brethren  watching  the  struggle 
from  out  of  the  gloom.  The  snapping  beaks  drifted 
farther  away,  and  Oohoomisew,  with  a  sudden  sweep 
of  wings,  vaulted  into  the  air. 

With  his  big  forefeet  planted  firmly  and  his  snarl- 
ing face  turned  up  to  the  black  wall  of  the  tree-tops 
Miki  continued  to  bark  and  howl  defiantly.  He 
wanted  the  bird  to  come  back.  He  wanted  to  tear 
and  rip  at  its  feathers,  and  as  he  sent  out  his  frantic 
challenge  Neewa  rolled  over,  got  on  his  feet,  and  with 
a  warning  squeal  to  Miki  once  more  set  off  in  flight. 
If  Miki  was  ignorant  in  the  matter,  he  at  least  under- 
stood the  situation.  Again  it  was  the  instinct  born 
of  countless  generations.  He  knew  that  in  the  black 
pits  about  them  hovered  death — and  he  ran  as  he 
had  never  run  before  in  his  life.  As  Miki  followed, 
the  shadows  were  beginning  to  float  nearer  again. 

Ahead  of  them  they  saw  a  glimmer  of  sunshine. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  97 

The  trees  grew  taller,  and  soon  the  day  began  break- 
ing through  so  that  there  were  no  longer  the  cavern- 
ous hollows  of  gloom  about  them.  If  they  had  gone 
on  another  hundred  yards  they  would  have  come  to 
the  edge  of  the  big  plain,  the  hunting  grounds  of  the 
owls.  But  the  flame  of  self-preservation  was  hot 
in  Neewa's  head;  he  was  still  dazed  by  the  thunder- 
ous beat  of  wings;  his  sides  burned  where  Oohoomi- 
sew's  talons  had  scarred  his  flesh;  so,  when  he  saw 
in  his  path  a  tangled  windfall  of  tree  trunks  he  dived 
into  the  security  of  it  so  swiftly  that  for  a  moment 
or  two  Miki  wondered  where  he  had  gone. 

Crawling  into  the  windfall  after  him  Miki  turned 
and  poked  out  his  head.  He  was  not  satisfied.  His 
lips  were  still  drawn  back,  and  he  continued  to  growl. 
He  had  beaten  his  enemy.  He  had  knocked  it  over 
fairly,  and  had  filled  his  jaws  with  its  feathers.  In 
the  face  of  that  triumph  he  sensed  the  fact  that  he 
had  run  away  in  following  Neewa,  and  he  was  pos- 
sessed with  the  desire  to  go  back  and  have  it  out  to  a 
finish.  It  was  the  blood  of  the  Airedale  and  the 
Spitz  growing  stronger  in  him,  fearless  of  defeat; 
the  blood  of  his  father,  the  giant  hunting-hound 
Hela.  It  was  the  demand  of  his  breed,  with  its 


98  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

mixture  of  wolfish  courage  and  fox-like  persistency 
backed  by  the  powerful  jaws  and  Herculean  strength 
of  the  Mackenzie  hound,  and  if  Neewa  had  not 
drawn  deeper  under  the  windfall  he  would  have  gone 
out  again  and  yelped  his  challenge  to  the  feathered 
things  from  which  they  had  fled. 

Neewa  was  smarting  under  the  red-hot  stab  of 
Oohoomisew's  talons,  and  he  wanted  no  more  of  the 
fight  that  came  out  of  the  air.  He  began  licking 
his  wounds,  and  after  a  while  Miki  went  back  to  him 
and  smelled  of  the  fresh,  warm  blood.  It  made  him 
growl.  He  knew  that  it  was  Neewa's  blood,  and  his 
eyes  glowed  like  twin  balls  of  fire  as  they  watched 
the  opening  through  which  they  had  entered  into 
the  dark  tangle  of  fallen  trees. 

For  an  hour  he  did  not  move,  and  in  that  hour,  as 
in  the  hour  after  the  killing  of  the  rabbit,  he  grew. 
When  at  last  he  crept  out  cautiously  from  under  the 
windfall  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  western 
forests.  He  peered  about  him,  watching  for  move- 
ment and  listening  for  sound.  The  sagging  and 
apologetic  posture  of  puppyhood  was  gone  from  him. 
His  overgrown  feet  stood  squarely  on  the  ground; 
his  angular  legs  were  as  hard  as  if  carven  out  of 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  99 

knotty  wood;  his  body  was  tense,  his  ears  stood  up, 
his  head  was  rigidly  set  between  the  bony  shoulders 
that  already  gave  evidence  of  gigantic  strength  to 
come.  About  him  he  knew  was  the  Big  Adventure. 
The  world  was  no  longer  a  world  of  play  and  of  snug- 
gling under  the  hands  of  a  master.  Something 
vastly  more  thrilling  had  come  into  it  now. 

After  a  time  he  dropped  on  his  belly  close  to  the 
opening  under  the  windfall  and  began  chewing  at  the 
end  of  rope  which  dragged  from  about  his  neck.  The 
sun  sank  lower.  It  disappeared.  Still  he  waited 
for  Neewa  to  come  out  and  lie  with  him  in  the  open. 
As  the  twilight  thickened  into  deeper  gloom  he  drew 
himself  into  the  edge  of  the  door  under  the  windfall 
and  found  Neewa  there.  Together  they  peered  forth 
into  the  mysterious  night. 

For  a  time  there  was  the  utter  stillness  of  the  first 
hour  of  darkness  in  the  northland.  Up  in  the  clear 
sky  the  stars  came  out  in  twos  and  then  in  glowing 
constellations.  There  was  an  early  moon.  It  was 
already  over  the  edge  of  the  forests,  flooding  the 
world  with  a  golden  glow,  and  in  that  glow  the 
night  was  filled  with  grotesque  black  shadows  that 
had  neither  movement  nor  sound.  Then  the  silence 


100  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

was  broken.  From  out  of  the  owl-infested  pits 
came  a  strange  and  hollow  sound.  Miki  had  heard 
the  shrill  screeching  and  the  tu-who-o-o,  tu-who-o-o, 
tu-who-o-o  of  the  little  owls,  the  trap-pirates,  but 
never  this  voice  of  the  strong-winged  Jezebels  and 
Frankensteins  of  the  deeper  forests — the  real  butch- 
ers of  the  night.  It  was  a  hollow,  throaty  sound — 
more  a  moan  than  a  cry;  a  moan  so  short  and  low 
that  it  seemed  born  of  caution,  or  of  fear  that  it 
would  frighten  possible  prey.  For  a  few  minutes 
pit  after  pit  gave  forth  each  its  signal  of  life,  and 
then  there  was  a  silence  of  voice,  broken  at  inter- 
vals by  the  faint,  crashing  sweep  of  great  wings  in 
the  spruce  and  balsam  tops  as  the  hunters  launched 
themselves  up  and  over  them  in  the  direction  of  the 
plain. 

The  going  forth  of  the  owls  was  only  the  begin- 
ning of  the  night  carnival  for  Neewa  and  Miki.  For 
a  long  time  they  lay  side  by  side,  sleepless,  and  listen- 
ing. Past  the  windfall  went  the  padded  feet  of  a 
fisher-cat,  and  they  caught  the  scent  of  it;  to  them 
came  the  far  cry  of  a  loon,  the  yapping  of  a  restless 
fox,  and  the  mooing  of  a  cow  moose  feeding  in  the  edge 
of  a  lake  on  the  farther  side  of  the  plain.  And  then, 


NOMADS  OF  T3E  NORTH  101 

at  last,  came  the  thing  .that  m'ade « cRei?  ibiobd  run 
faster  and  sent  a  deeper  thrill  into  their  hearts. 

It  seemed  a  vast  distance  away  at  first — the  hot- 
throated  cry  of  wolves  on  the  trail  of  meat.  It  was 
swinging  northward  into  the  plain,  and  this  shortly 
brought  the  cry  with  the  wind,  which  was  out  of  the 
north  and  the  west.  The  howling  of  the  pack  wag 
very  distinct  after  that,  and  in  Miki's  brain  nebu- 
lous visions  and  almost  unintelligible  memories  were 
swiftly  wakening  into  life.  It  was  not  Challoner's 
voice  that  he  heard,  but  it  was  a  voice  that  he  knew. 
It  was  the  voice  of  Hela,  his  giant  father;  the  voice 
of  Numa,  his  mother;  the  voice  of  his  kind  for  a 
hundred  and  a  thousand  generations  before  him,  and 
it  was  the  instinct  of  those  generations  and  the  hazy 
memory  of  his  earliest  puppyhood  that  were  imping- 
ing the  thing  upon  him.  A  little  later  it  would  take 
both  intelligence  and  experience  to  make  him  dis- 
criminate the  hair-breadth  difference  between  wolf 
and  dog.  And  this  voice  of  his  blood  was  coming! 
It  bore  down  upon  them  swiftly,  fierce  and  filled 
with  the  blood-lust  of  hunger.  He  forgot  Neewa. 
He  did  not  observe  the  cub  when  he  slunk  back 
deeper  under  the  windfall.  He  rose  up  on  his  feet 


102  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

and  stood  stiff -and  lease,  unconscious  of  all  things 
but  that  thrilling  tongue  of  the  hunt-pack. 

Wind-broken,  his  strength  failing  him,  and  his 
eyes  wildly  searching  the  night  ahead  for  the  gleam 
of  water  that  might  save  him,  Ahtik,  the  young 
caribou  bull,  raced  for  his  life  a  hundred  yards  ahead 
of  the  wolves.  The  pack  had  already  flung  itself 
out  in  the  form  of  a  horse-shoe,  and  the  two  ends 
were  beginning  to  creep  up  abreast  of  Ahtik,  ready 
to  close  in  for  the  hamstring — and  the  kill.  In  these 
last  minutes  every  throat  was  silent,  and  the  young 
bull  sensed  the  beginning  of  the  end.  Desperately 
he  turned  to  the  right  and  plunged  into  the  forest. 

Miki  heard  the  crash  of  his  body  and  he  hugged 
close  to  the  windfall.  Ten  seconds  later  Ahtik  pas- 
sed within  fifty  feet  of  him,  a  huge  and  grotesque  form 
in  the  moonlight,  his  coughing  breath  filled  with  the 
agony  and  hopelessness  of  approaching  death.  As 
swiftly  as  he  had  come  he  was  gone,  and  in  his  place 
followed  half  a  score  of  noiseless  shadows  passing 
so  quickly  that  to  Miki  they  were  like  the  coming 
and  the  going  of  the  wind. 

For  many  minutes  after  that  he  stood  and  listened 
but  again  silence  had  fallen  upon  the  night.  After 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  103 

a  little  he  went  back  into  the  windfall  and  lay  down 
beside  Neewa. 

Hours  that  followed  he  passed  in  restless  snatches 
of  slumber.  He  dreamed  of  things  that  he  had  for- 
gotten. He  dreamed  of  Challoner.  He  dreamed 
of  chill  nights  and  the  big  fires;  he  heard  his  master's 
voice  and  he  felt  again  the  touch  of  his  hand;  but 
over  it  all  and  through  it  all  ran  that  wild  hunting 
voice  of  his  own  kind. 

In  the  early  dawn  he  came  out  from  under  the  wind- 
fall and  smelled  of  the  trail  where  the  wolves  and  the 
caribou  had  passed.  Heretofore  it  was  Neewa  who 
had  led  in  their  wandering;  now  it  was  Neewa  that 
followed.  His  nostrils  filled  with  the  heavy  scent 
of  the  pack,  Miki  travelled  steadily  in  the  direction 
of  the  plain.  It  took  him  half  an  hour  to  reach  the 
edge  of  it.  After  that  he  came  to  a  wide  and  stony 
out-cropping  of  the  earth  over  which  he  nosed  the 
spoor  to  a  low  and  abrupt  descent  into  the  wider 
range  of  the  valley. 

Here  he  stopped. 

Twenty  feet  under  him  and  fifty  feet  away  lay  the 
partly  devoured  carcass  of  the  young  bull.  It  was 
not  this  fact  that  thrilled  him  until  his  heart  stood 


104  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

still.  From  out  of  the  bushy  plain  had  come  Mahee- 
gun,  a  renegade  she-wolf,  to  fill  herself  of  the  meat 
which  she  had  not  helped  to  kill.  She  was  a  slinking, 
hollow-backed,  quick-fanged  creature,  still  rib-thin 
from  the  sickness  that  had  come  of  eating  a  poison- 
bait;  a  beast  shunned  by  her  own  kind — a  coward,  a 
murderess  even  of  her  own  whelps.  But  she  was 
none  of  these  things  to  Miki.  In  her  he  saw  in  living 
flesh  and  bone  what  his  memory  and  his  instinct 
recalled  to  him  of  his  mother.  And  his  mother  had 
come  before  Challoner,  his  master. 

For  a  minute  or  two  he  lay  trembling,  and  then  he 
went  down,  as  he  would  lhave  gone  to  Challoner; 
with  great  caution,  with'a^wilder  suspense,  but  with 
a  strange  yearning  witfiin  him  that  the  man's  pres- 
ence would  have  failed  to  rouse.  He  was  very 
close  to  Maheegun  before  she  was  conscious  that  he 
was  near.  The  Mother-smell  was  warm  in  his  nose 
now;  it  filled  him  with  a  great  joy;  and  yet — he  was 
afraid.  But  it  was  not  a  physical  fear.  Flattened 
on  the  ground,  with  his  head  between  his  fore-paws, 
he  whined. 

Like  a  flash  the  she-wolf  turned,  her  fangs  bared 
the  length  of  her  jaws  and  her  bloodshot  eyes  aglow 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  105 

with  menace  and  suspicion.  Miki  had  no  time  to 
make  a  move  or  another  sound.  With  the  sudden- 
ness of  a  cat  the  outcast  creature  was  upon  him. 
Her  fangs  slashed  him  just  once — and  she  was  gone. 
Her  teeth  had  drawn  blood  from  his  shoulder,  but 
it  was  not  the  smart  of  the  wound  that  held  him  for 
many  moments  as  still  as  if  dead.  The  Mother- 
smell  was  still  where  Maheegun  had  been.  But 
his  dreams  had  crumbled.  The  thing  that  had  been 
Memory  died  away  at  last  in  a  deep  breath  that  was 
broken  by  a  whimper  of  pain.  For  him,  even  as 
for  Neewa,  there  was  no  more  a  Challoner,  and  no 
longer  a  mother.  But  there  remained — the  world! 
In  it  the  sun  was  rising.  Out  of  it  came  the  thrill 
and  the  perfume  of  life.  And  close  to  him — very 
close — was  the  rich,  sweet  smell  of  meat. 

He  sniffed  hungrily.  Then  he  turned,  and  saw 
Neewa's  black  and  pudgy  body  tumbling  down  the 
slope  of  the  dip  to  join  him  in  the  feast. 


CHAPTER  NINE 

HAD  Makoki,  the  leather-faced  old  Cree  run- 
ner between  God's  Lake  and  Fort  Churchill, 
known  the  history  of  Miki  and  Neewa  up  to 
the  point  where  they  came  to  feast  on  the  fat  and 
partly  devoured  carcass  of  the  young  caribou  bull, 
he  would  have  said  that  Iskoo  Wapoo,  the  Good 
Spirit  of  the  beasts,  was  watching  over  them  most 
carefully.  For  Makoki  had  great  faith  in  the  forest 
gods  as  well  as  hi  those  of  his  own  tepee.  He  would 
have  given  the  story  his  own  picturesque  version, 
and  would  have  told  it  to  the  little  children  of  his 
son's  children;  and  his  son's  children  would  have  kept 
it  in  their  memory  for  their  own  children  later  on. 

It  was  not  in  the  ordained  nature  of  things  that  a 
black  bear  cub  and  a  Mackenzie  hound  pup  with  a 
dash  of  Airedale  and  Spitz  in  him  should  "chum  up" 
together  as  Neewa  and  Miki  had  done.  Therefore, 
he  would  have  said,  the  Beneficent  Spirit  who 
watched  over  the  affairs  of  four-legged  beasts  must 

106 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  107 

have  had  an  eye  on  them  from  the  beginning.  It 
was  she — Iskoo  Wapoo  was  a  goddess  and  not  a  god 
—who  had  made  Challoner  kill  Neewa's  mother, 
the  big  black  bear;  and  it  was  she  who  had  induced 
him  to  tie  the  pup  and  the  cub  together  on  the  same 
piece  of  rope,  so  that  when  they  fell  out  of  the  white 
man's  canoe  into  the  rapids  they  would  not  die,  but 
would  be  company  and  salvation  for  each  other. 
Neswa-pawuk  ("two  little  brothers")  Makoki  would 
have  called  them;  and  had  it  come  to  the  test  he 
would  have  cut  off  a  finger  before  harming  either  of 
them.  But  Makoki  knew  nothing  of  their  adven- 
tures, and  on  this  morning  when  they  came  down  to 
the  feast  he  was  a  hundred  miles  away,  haggling 
with  a  white  man  who  wanted  a  guide.  He  would 
never  know  that  Iskoo  Wapoo  was  at  his  side  that 
very  moment,  planning  the  thing  that  was  to  mean 
so  much  in  the  lives  of  Neewa  and  Miki. 

Meanwhile  Neewa  and  Miki  went  at  their  break- 
fast as  if  starved.  They  were  immensely  practical. 
They  did  not  look  back  on  what  had  happened,  but 
for  the  moment  submerged  themselves  completely 
in  the  present.  The  few  days  of  thrill  and  adventure 
through  which  they  had  gone  seemed  like  a  year. 


108  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Neewa's  yearning  for  his  mother  had  grown  less  and 
less  insistent,  and  Miki's  lost  master  counted  for 
nothing  now,  as  things  were  going  with  him.  Last 
night  was  the  big,  vivid  thing  in  their  memories — 
their  fight  for  life  with  the  monster  owls,  their  flight, 
the  killing  of  the  young  caribou  bull  by  the  wolves, 
and  (with  Miki)  the  short,  bitter  experience  with 
Maheegun,  the  renegade  she-wolf.  His  shoulder 
burned  where  she  had  torn  at  him  with  her  teeth. 
But  this  did  not  lessen  his  appetite.  Growling  as  he 
ate,  he  filled  himself  until  he  could  hold  no  more. 

Then  he  sat  back  on  his  haunches  and  looked  in 
the  direction  Maheegun  had  taken. 

It  was  eastward,  toward  Hudson  Bay,  over  a  great 
plain  that  lay  between  two  ridges  that  were  like 
forest  walls,  yellow  and  gold  in  the  morning  sun. 
He  had  never  seen  the  world  as  it  looked  to  him  now. 
The  wolves  had  overtaken  the  caribou  on  a  scarp 
on  the  high  ground  that  thrust  itself  out  like  a  short 
fat  thumb  from  the  black  and  owl-infested  forest, 
and  the  carcass  lay  in  a  meadowy  dip  that  overhung 
the  plain.  From  the  edge  of  this  dip  Miki  could 
look  down — and  so  far  away  that  the  wonder  of  what 
he  saw  dissolved  itself  at  last  into  the  shimmer  of  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  109 

sun  and  the  blue  of  the  sky.  Within  his  vision  lay 
a  paradise  of  marvellous  promise;  wide  stretches  of 
soft,  green  meadow;  clumps  of  timber,  park-like 
until  they  merged  into  the  deeper  forest  that  began 
with  the  farther  ridge;  great  patches  of  bush  radiant 
with  the  colouring  of  June;  here  and  there  the  gleam 
of  water,  and  half  a  mile  away  a  lake  that  was  like  a 
giant  mirror  set  in  a  purplish-green  frame  of  balsam 
and  spruce. 

Into  these  things  Maheegun,  the  she- wolf,  had 
gone.  He  wondered  whether  she  would  come  back. 
He  sniffed  the  air  for  her.  But  there  was  no  longer 
the  mother-yearning  in  his  heart.  Something  had 
already  begun  to  tell  him  of  the  vast  difference  be- 
tween the  dog  and  the  wolf.  For  a  few  moments ,  still 
hopeful  that  the  world  held  a  mother  for  him,  he  had 
mistaken  her  for  the  one  he  had  lost.  But  he  under- 
stood— now.  A  little  more  and  Maheegun's  teeth 
would  have  snapped  his  shoulder,  or  slashed  his 
throat  to  the  jugular.  Tebah-Gone-Gawin  (the  One 
Great  Law)  was  impinging  itself  upon  him,  the  im- 
placable law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  To  live 
was  to  fight — to  kill;  to  beat  everything  that  had 
feet  or  wings.  The  earth  and  the  air  held  menace 


110  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

for  him.  Nowhere,  since  he  had  lost  Challoner,  had 
he  found  friendship  except  in  the  heart  of  Neewa, 
the  motherless  cub.  And  he  turned  toward  Neewa 
now,  growling  at  a  gay-plumaged  moose-bird  that 
was  hovering  about  for  a  morsel  of  meat. 

A  few  minutes  before,  Neewa  had  weighed  a  dozen 
pounds;  now  he  weighed  fourteen  or  fifteen.  His 
stomach  was  puffed  out  like  the  sides  of  an  overfilled 
bag,  and  he  sat  humped  up  in  a  pool  of  warm  sun- 
shine licking  his  chops  and  vastly  contented  with 
himself  and  the  world.  Miki  rubbed  up  to  him,  and 
Neewa  gave  a  chummy  grunt.  Then  he  rolled  over 
on  his  fat  back  and  invited  Miki  to  play.  It  was  the 
first  time;  and  with  a  joyous  yelp  Miki  jumped  into 
him.  Scratching  and  biting  and  kicking,  and  inter- 
jecting their  friendly  scrimmage  with  ferocious  growl- 
ing on  Miki's  part  and  pig-like  grunts  and  squeals 
on  Neewa's,  they  rolled  to  the  edge  of  the  dip.  It 
was  a  good  hundred  feet  to  the  bottom — a  steep, 
grassy  slope  that  ran  to  the  plain — and  like  two  balls 
they  catapulted  the  length  of  it.  For  Neewa  it 
was  not  so  bad.  He  was  round  and  fat,  and  went 
easily. 

With  Miki  it  was  different.     He  was  all  legs  and 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  111 

skin  and  angular  bone,  and  he  went  down  twisting 
and  somersaulting  and  tying  himself  into  knots  until 
by  the  time  he  struck  the  hard  strip  of  shale  at  the 
edge  of  the  plain  he  was  drunk  with  dizziness  and  the 
breath  was  out  of  his  body.  He  staggered  to  his 
feet  with  a  gasp.  For  a  space  the  world  was  whirling 
round  and  round  in  a  sickening  circle.  Then  he 
pulled  himself  together,  and  made  out  Neewa  a 
dozen  feet  away. 

Neewa  was  just  awakening  to  the  truth  of  an  ex- 
hilarating discovery.  Next  to  a  boy  on  a  sled,  or  a 
beaver  on  its  tail,  no  one  enjoys  a  "slide"  more  than 
a  black  bear  cub,  and  as  Miki  rearranged  his  scattered 
wits  Neewa  climbed  twenty  or  thirty  feet  up  the 
slope  and  deliberately  rolled  down  again  !  Miki's  jaws 
fell  apart  in  amazement.  Again  Neewa  climbed  up 
and  rolled  down — and  Miki  ceased  to  breathe  alto- 
gether. Five  times  he  watched  Neewa  go  that 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  up  the  grassy  slope  and  tumble 
down.  The  fifth  time  he  waded  into  Neewa  and 
gave  him  a  rough-and-tumble  that  almost  ended  in 
a  fight. 

After  that  Miki  began  exploring  along  the  foot  of 
the  slope,  and  for  a  scant  hundred  yards  Neewa 


112  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

humoured  him  by  following,  but  beyond  that  point 
he  flatly  refused  to  go.  In  the  fourth  month  of  his 
exciting  young  life  Neewa  was  satisfied  that  Nature 
had  given  him  birth  that  he  might  have  the  endless 
pleasure  of  filling  his  stomach.  For  him,  eating  was 
the  one  and  only  excuse  for  existing.  In  the  next 
few  months  he  had  a  big  job  on  his  hands  if  he  kept 
up  the  record  of  his  family,  and  the  fact  that  Miki 
was  apparently  abandoning  the  fat  and  juicy  carcass 
of  the  young  bull  filled  him  with  alarm  and  rebellion. 
Straightway  he  forgot  all  thought  of  play  and  started 
back  up  the  slope  on  a  mission  that  was  100  per  cent, 
business. 

Observing  this,  Miki  gave  up  his  idea  of  explora- 
tion and  joined  him.  They  reached  the  shelf  of  the 
dip  twenty  yards  from  the  carcass  of  the  bull,  and 
from  a  clutter  of  big  stones  looked  forth  upon  their 
meat.  In  that  moment  they  stood  dumb  and  para- 
lyzed. Two  gigantic  owls  were  tearing  at  the  car- 
cass. To  Miki  and  Neewa  these  were  the  monsters 
of  the  black  forest  out  of  which  they  had  escaped  so 
narrowly  with  their  lives.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact 
they  were  not  of  Oohoomisew's  breed  of  night-seeing 
pirates.  They  were  Snowy  Owls,  unlike  all  others  of 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  113 

their  kind  in  that  their  vision  was  as  keen  as  a  hawk's 
in  the  light  of  broad  day.  Mispoon,  the  big  male, 
was  immaculately  white.  His  mate,  a  size  or  two 
smaller,  was  barred  with  brownish-slate  colour — and 
their  heads  were  round  and  terrible  looking  because 
they  had  no  ear-tufts.  Mispoon,  with  his  splendid 
wings  spread  half  over  the  carcass  of  Ahtik,  the  dead 
bull,  was  rending  flesh  so  ravenously  with  his  power- 
ful beak  that  Neewa  and  Miki  could  hear  the  sound 
of  it.  Newish,  his  mate,  had  her  head  almost  buried 
in  Ahtik's  bowels.  The  sight  of  them  and  the  sound 
of  their  eating  were  enough  to  disturb  the  nerves  of 
an  older  bear  than  Neewa,  and  he  crouched  behind 
a  stone,  with  just  his  head  sticking  out. 

In  Miki's  throat  was  a  sullen  growl.  But  he  held 
it  back,  and  flattened  himself  on  the  ground.  The 
blood  of  the  giant  hunter  that  was  his  father  rose 
in  him  again  like  fire.  The  carcass  was  his  meat, 
and  he  was  ready  to  fight  for  it.  Besides,  had  he  not 
whipped  the  big  owl  in  the  forest?  But  here  there 
were  two.  The  fact  held  him  flattened  on  his  belly 
a  moment  or  two  longer,  and  in  that  brief  space  the 
unexpected  happened. 

Slinking  up  out  of  the  low  growth  of  bush  at  the 


114  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

far  edge  of  the  dip  he  saw  Maheegan,  the  renegade 
she-wolf.  Hollow-backed,  red-eyed,  her  bushy  tail 
hanging  with  the  sneaky  droop  of  the  murderess,  she 
advanced  over  the  bit  of  open,  a  gray  and  vengeful 
shadow.  Bad  as  she  was,  she  at  least  was  not  a 
coward.  Straight  at  Mispoon  she  launched  herself 
with  a  snarl  and  a  snap  of  fangs  that  made  Miki  hug 
the  ground  still  closer. 

Deep  into  Mispoon's  four-inch  armour  of  feathers 
Maheegun  buried  her  fangs.  Taken  at  a  disadvan- 
tage Mispoon's  head  would  have  been  torn  from  his 
body  before  he  could  have  gathered  himself  for  battle 
had  it  not  been  for  Newish.  Pulling  her  blood- 
stained head  from  Ahtik's  flesh  and  blood  she  drove 
at  Maheegun  with  a  throaty,  wheezing  scream — a 
cry  that  was  like  the  cry  of  no  other  thing  that  lived. 
Into  the  she- wolf 's  back  she  sank  her  beak  and  talons 
and  Maheegun  gave  up  her  grip  on  Mispoon  and  tore 
ferociously  at  her  new  assailant.  For  a  space  Mis- 
poon was  saved,  but  it  was  at  a  terrible  sacrifice  to 
Newish.  With  a  single  lucky  slash  of  her  long-fanged 
jaws,  Maheegun  literally  tore  one  of  Ne wish's  great 
wings  from  her  body.  The  croak  of  agony  that  came 
out  of  her  may  have  held  the  death-note  for  Mispoon, 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  115 

her  mate;  for  he  rose  on  his  wings,  poised  himself  for 
an  instant,  and  launched  himself  at  the  she- wolf's 
back  with  a  force  that  drove  Maheegun  off  her  feet. 

Deep  into  her  loins  the  great  owl  sank  his  talons, 
gripping  at  the  renegade's  vitals  with  an  avenging 
and  ferocious  tenacity.  In  that  hold  Maheegun  felt 
the  sting  of  death.  She  flung  herself  on  her  back; 
she  rolled  over  and  over,  snarling  and  snapping  and 
clawing  the  air  in  her  efforts  to  free  herself  of  the 
burning  knives  that  were  sinking  still  deeper  into  her 
bowels.  Mispoon  hung  on,  rolling  as  she  rolled,  beat- 
ing with  his  giant  wings,  fastening  his  talons  in  that 
clutch  that  death  could  not  shake  loose.  On  the 
ground  his  mate  was  dying.  Her  life's  blood  was 
pouring  out  of  the  hole  in  her  side,  but  with  the  dim- 
ming vision  of  death  she  made  a  last  effort  to  help 
Mispoon.  And  Mispoon,  a  hero  to  the  last,  kept 
his  grip  until  he  was  dead. 

Into  the  edge  of  the  bush  Maheegun  dragged  her- 
self. There  she  freed  herself  of  the  big  owl.  But 
the  deep  wounds  were  still  in  her  sides.  The  blood 
dripped  from  her  belly  as  she  made  her  way  down 
into  the  thicker  cover,  leaving  a  red  trail  behind 
her.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  away  she  lay  down  under  a 


116  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

clump  of  dwarf  spruce;  and  there,  a  little  later,  she 
died. 

To  Neewa  and  Miki — and  especially  to  the  son  of 
Hela — the  grim  combat  had  widened  even  more  that 
subtle  and  growing  comprehension  of  the  world  as  it 
existed  for  them.  It  was  the  unforgettable  wisdom 
of  experience  backed  by  an  age-old  instinct  and  the 
heredity  of  breed.  They  had  killed  small  things — 
Neewa,  his  bugs  and  his  frogs  and  his  bumble-bees; 
Miki,  his  rabbit — they  had  fought  for  their  lives; 
they  had  passed  through  experiences  that,  from  the 
beginning,  had  been  a  gamble  with  death;  but  it  had 
needed  the  climax  of  a  struggle  such  as  they  had  seen 
with  their  own  eyes  to  open  up  the  doors  that  gave 
them  a  new  viewpoint  of  life. 

It  was  many  minutes  before  Miki  went  forth  and 
smelled  of  Newish,  the  dead  owl.  He  had  no  desire 
now  to  tear  at  her  feathers  in  the  excitement  of  an 
infantile  triumph  and  ferocity.  Along  with  greater 
understanding  a  new  craft  and  a  new  cunning  were 
born  in  him.  The  fate  of  Mispoon  and  his  mate  had 
taught  him  the  priceless  value  of  silence  and  of  cau- 
tion, for  he  knew  now  that  in  the  world  there  were 
many  things  that  were  not  afraid  of  him,  and  many 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  117 

things  that  would  not  run  away  from  him.  He  had 
lost  his  fearless  and  blatant  contempt  for  winged 
creatures;  he  had  learned  that  the  earth  was  not  made 
for  him  alone,  and  that  to  hold  his  small  place  on  it 
he  must  fight  as  Maheegun  and  the  owls  had  fought. 
This  was  because  in  Miki's  veins  was  the  red  fighting 
blood  of  a  long  line  of  ancestors  that  reached  back 
to  the  wolves. 

In  Neewa  the  process  of  deduction  was  vastly 
different.  His  breed  was  not  the  fighting  breed,  ex- 
cept as  it  fought  among  its  own  kind.  It  did  not 
make  a  habit  of  preying  upon  other  beasts,  and  no 
other  beast  preyed  upon  it.  This  was  purely  an  ac- 
cident of  birth — the  fact  that  no  other  creature  in  all 
his  wide  domain  was  powerful  enough,  either  alone 
or  in  groups,  to  defeat  a  grown  black  bear  in  open 
battle.  Therefore  Neewa  learned  nothing  of  fighting 
in  the  tragedy  of  Maheegun  and  the  owls.  His  profit, 
if  any,  was  in  a  greater  caution.  And  his  chief  inter- 
est was  in  the  fact  that  Maheegun  and  the  two  owls 
had  not  devoured  the  young  bull.  His  supper  was 
still  safe. 

With  his  little  round  eyes  on  the  alert  for  fresh 
trouble  he  kept  himself  safely  hidden  while  he 


118  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

watched  Miki  investigating  the  scene  of  battle. 
From  the  body  of  the  owl  Miki  went  to  Ahtik,  and 
from  Ahtik  he  sniffed  slowly  over  the  trail  which 
Maheegun  had  taken  into  the  bush.  In  the  edge  of 
the  cover  he  found  Mispoon.  He  did  not  go  farther,' 
but  returned  to  Neewa,  who  by  this  time  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  could  safely  come  out  into  the 
open. 

Fifty  times  that  day  Miki  rushed  to  the  defense 
of  their  meat.  The  big-eyed,  clucking  moose-birds 
were  most  annoying.  Next  to  them  the  Canada 
jays  were  most  persistent.  Twice  a  little  gray- 
coated  ermine,  with  eyes  as  red  as  garnets,  came  in 
to  get  his  fill  of  blood.  Miki  was  at  him  so  fiercely 
that  he  did  not  return  a  third  time.  By  noon  the 
crows  had  got  scent  or  sight  of  the  carcass  and  were 
circling  overhead,  waiting  for  Neewa  and  Miki  to 
disappear.  Later,  they  set  up  a  raucous  protest 
from  the  tops  of  the  trees  in  the  edge  of  the  forest. 

That  night  the  wolves  did  not  return  to  the  dip. 
Meat  was  too  plentiful,  and  those  that  were  over 
their  gorge  were  off  on  a  fresh  kill  far  to  the  west. 
Once  or  twice  Neewa  and  Miki  heard  their  distant 
cry. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  119 

Again  through  a  star-filled  radiant  night  they 
watched  and  listened,  and  slept  at  times.  In  the 
soft  gray  dawn  they  went  forth  once  more  to  their 
feast. 

And  here  is  where  Makoki,  the  old  Cree  runner, 
would  have  emphasized  the  presence  of  the  Benefi- 
cent Spirit.  For  day  followed  day,  and  night  fol- 
lowed night,  and  Ahtik's  flesh  and  blood  put  into 
Neewa  and  Miki  a  strength  and  growth  that  devel- 
oped marvellously.  By  the  fourth  day  Neewa  had 
become  so  fat  and  sleek  that  he  was  half  again  as  big 
as  on  the  day  he  fell  out  of  the  canoe.  Miki  had 
begun  to  fill  out.  His  ribs  could  no  longer  be  counted 
from  a  distance.  His  chest  was  broadening  and  his 
legs  were  losing  some  of  their  angular  clumsiness. 
Practice  on  Ahtik's  bones  had  strengthened  his  jaws. 
With  his  development  he  felt  less  and  less  the  old 
puppyish  desire  to  play — more  and  more  the  restless- 
ness of  the  hunter.  The  fourth  night  he  heard  again 
the  wailing  hunt-cry  of  the  wolves,  and  it  held  a  wild 
and  thrilling  note  for  him. 

With  Neewa,  fat  and  good  humour  and  content- 
ment were  all  synonymous.  As  long  as  the  meat  held 
out  there  was  no  very  great  temptation  for  him  be- 


120  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

yond  the  dip  and  the  slope.  Two  or  three  times  a 
day  he  went  down  to  the  creek;  and  every  morning 
and  afternoon — especially  about  sunset — he  had 
his  fun  rolling  downhill.  In  addition  to  this  he  be- 
gan taking  his  afternoon  naps  in  the  crotch  of  a  small 
sapling.  As  Miki  could  see  neither  sense  nor  sport 
in  tobogganing,  and  as  he  could  not  climb  a  tree,  he 
began  to  spend  more  and  more  time  in  venturing  up 
and  down  the  foot  of  the  ridge.  He  wanted  Neewa 
to  go  with  him  on  these  expeditions.  He  never  set 
out  until  he  had  entreated  Neewa  to  come  down  out 
of  his  tree,  or  until  he  had  made  an  effort  to  coax  him 
away  from  the  single  trail  he  had  made  to  the  creek 
and  back.  Neewa's  obstinacy  would  never  have 
brought  about  any  real  unpleasantness  between  them. 
Miki  thought  too  much  of  him  for  that;  and  if  it  had 
come  to  a  final  test,  and  Neewa  had  thought  that 
Miki  would  not  return,  he  would  undoubtedly  have 
followed  him. 

It  was  another  and  a  more  potent  thing  than  an 
ordinary  quarrel  that  placed  the  first  great  barrier 
between  them.  Now  it  happened  that  Miki  was  of 
the  breed  which  preferred  its  meat  fresh,  while  Neewa 
like  his  "well  hung."  And  from  the  fourth  day  on- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

ward,  what  was  left  of  Ahtik's  carcass  was  ripening. 
On  the  fifth  day  Miki  found  the  flesh  difficult  to  eat; 
on  the  sixth,  impossible.  To  Neewa  it  became  in- 
creasingly delectable  as  the  flavour  grew  and  the 
perfume  thickened.  On  the  sixth  day,  in  sheer  de- 
light, he  rolled  in  it.  That  night,  for  the  first  time, 
Miki  could  not  sleep  with  him. 

The  seventh  day  brought  the  climax.  Ahtik  now 
fairly  smelled  to  heaven.  The  odour  of  him  drifted 
up  and  away  on  the  soft  June  wind  until  all  the  crows 
in  the  country  were  gathering.  It  drove  Miki,  slink- 
ing like  a  whipped  cur,  down  into  the  creek  bottom. 
When  Neewa  came  down  for  a  drink  after  his  morn- 
ing feast  Miki  sniffed  him  over  for  a  moment  and  then 
slunk  away  from  him  again.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
there  was  small  difference  between  Ahtik  and  Neewa 
now,  except  that  one  lay  still  and  the  other  moved. 
Both  smelled  dead;  both  were  decidedly  "well  hung." 
Even  the  crows  circled  over  Neewa,  wondering  why 
it  was  that  he  walked  about  like  a  living  thing. 

That  night  Miki  slept  alone  under  a  clump  of  bush 
in  the  creek  bottom.  He  was  hungry  and  lonely, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  many  days  he  felt  the  bigness 
and  emptiness  of  the  world.  He  wanted  Neewa. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

He  whined  for  him  in  the  starry  silence  of  the  long 
hours  between  sunset  and  dawn.  The  sun  was  well 
up  before  Neewa  came  down  the  hill.  He  had  fin- 
ished his  breakfast  and  his  morning  roll,  and  he  was 
worse  than  ever.  Again  Miki  tried  to  coax  him  away 
but  Neewa  was  disgustingly  fixed  in  his  determina- 
tion to  remain  in  his  present  glory.  And  this  morn- 
ing he  was  more  than  usually  anxious  to  return  to  the 
dip.  All  of  yesterday  he  had  found  it  necessary  to 
frighten  the  crows  away  from  his  meat,  and  to-day 
they  were  doubly  persistent  in  their  efforts  to  rob 
him.  With  a  grunt  and  a  squeal  to  Miki  he  hustled 
back  up  the  hill  after  he  had  taken  his  drink. 

His  trail  entered  the  dip  through  the  pile  of  rocks 
from  which  Miki  and  he  had  watched  the  battle  be- 
tween Maheegun  and  the  two  owls,  and  as  a  matter 
of  caution  he  always  paused  for  a  few  moments 
among  these  rocks  to  make  sure  that  all  was  well  in 
the  open.  This  morning  he  received  a  decided  shock. 
Ahtik's  carcass  was  literally  black  with  crows.  Ka- 
kakew  and  his  Ethiopic  horde  of  scavengers  had  de- 
scended in  a  cloud,  and  they  were  tearing  and  fighting 
and  beating  their  wings  about  Ahtik  as  if  all  of  them 
had  gone  mad.  Another  cloud  was  hovering  in  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  123 

air;  every  bush  and  near-by  sapling  was  bending 
under  the  weight  of  them,  and  in  the  sun  their  jet- 
black  plumage  glistened  as  if  they  had  just  come  out 
of  the  bath  of  a  tinker's  pot.  Neewa  stood  astounded. 
He  was  not  frightened;  he  had  driven  the  cowardly 
robbers  away  many  times.  But  never  had  there 
been  so  many  of  them.  He  could  see  no  trace  of  his 
meat.  Even  the  ground  about  it  was  black. 

He  rushed  out  from  the  rocks  with  his  lips  drawn 
back,  just  as  he  had  rushed  a  dozen  or  more  times 
before.  There  was  a  mighty  roar  of  wings.  The 
air  was  darkened  by  them,  and  the  ravenish  scream- 
ing that  followed  could  have  been  heard  a  mile  away. 
This  time  Kakakew  and  his  mighty  crew  did  not  fly 
back  to  the  forest.  Their  number  gave  them  cour- 
age. The  taste  of  Ahtik's  flesh  and  the  flavour  of 
it  in  then*  nostrils  intoxicated  them,  to  the  point  of 
madness,  with  desire.  Neewa  was  dazed.  Over 
him,  behind  him,  on  all  sides  of  him  they  swept  and 
circled,  croaking  and  screaming  at  him,  the  boldest 
of  them  swooping  down  to  beat  at  him  with  their 
wings.  Thicker  grew  the  menacing  cloud,  and  then 
suddenly  it  descended  like  an  avalanche.  It  covered 
Ahtik  again.  In  it  Neewa  was  fairly  smothered.  He 


124  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

felt  himself  buried  under  a  mass  of  wings  and  bodies, 
and  he  began  fighting,  as  he  had  fought  the  owls.  A 
score  of  pincer-like  black  beaks  fought  to  get  at  his  hair 
and  hide;  others  stabbed  at  his  eyes;  he  felt  his  ears 
being  pulled  from  his  head,  and  the  end  of  his  nose 
was  a  bloody  cushion  within  a  dozen  seconds.  The 
breath  was  beaten  out  of  him;  he  was  blinded,  and 
dazed,  and  every  square  inch  of  him  was  aquiver 
with  its  own  excruciating  pain.  He  forgot  Ahtik. 
The  one  thing  in  the  world  he  wanted  most  was  a 
large  open  space  in  which  to  run. 

Putting  all  his  strength  into  the  effort  he  struggled 
to  his  feet  and  charged  through  the  mass  of  living 
things  about  him.  At  this  sign  of  defeat  many  of 
the  crows  left  him  to  join  in  the  feast.  By  the  time 
he  was  half  way  to  the  cover  into  which  Maheegun 
had  gone  all  but  one  had  left  him.  That  one  may 
have  been  Kakakew  himself.  He  had  fastened  him- 
self like  a  rat-trap  to  Neewa's  stubby  tail,  and  there 
he  hung  on  like  grim  death  while  Neewa  ran.  He 
kept  his  hold  until  his  victim  was  well  into  the  cover. 
Then  he  flopped  himself  into  the  air  and  rejoined  his 
brethren  at  the  putrified  carcass  of  the  bull. 

If  ever  Neewa  had  wanted  Miki  he  wanted  him 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  125 

now.  Again  his  entire  viewpoint  of  the  world  was 
changed.  He  was  stabbed  in  a  hundred  places.  He 
burned  as  if  afire.  Even  the  bottoms  of  his  feet  hurt 
him  when  he  stepped  on  them,  and  for  half  an  hour 
he  hid  himself  under  a  bush,  licking  his  wounds  and 
sniffing  the  air  for  Miki. 

Then  he  went  down  the  slope  into  the  creek  bot- 
tom, and  hurried  to  the  foot  of  the  trail  he  had  made 
to  and  from  the  dip.  Vainly  he  quested  about  him 
for  his  comrade.  He  grunted  and  squealed,  and  tried 
to  catch  the  scent  of  him  in  the  air.  He  ran  up  the 
creek  a  distance,  and  back  again.  Ahtik  counted 
as  nothing  now. 

Miki  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

A  QUARTER  of  a  mile  away  Miki  had  heard 
the  clamour  of  the  crows.  But  he  was  in  no 
humour  to  turn  back,  even  had  he  guessed 
that  Neewa  was  in  need  of  his  help.  He  was  hungry 
from  long  fasting  and,  for  the  present,  his  disposition 
had  taken  a  decided  turn.  He  was  in  a  mood  to 
tackle  anything  in  the  eating  line,  no  matter  how  big, 
but  he  was  a  good  mile  fom  the  dip  in  the  side  of  the 
ridge  before  he  found  even  a  crawfish.  He  crunched 
this  down,  shell  and  all.  It  helped  to  take  the  bad 
taste  out  of  his  mouth. 

The  day  was  destined  to  hold  for  him  still  another 
unforgettable  event  in  his  life.  Now  that  he  was 
alone  the  memory  of  his  master  was  not  so  vague  as 
it  had  been  yesterday,  and  the  days  before.  Brain- 
pictures  came  back  to  him  more  vividly  as  the  morn- 
ing lengthened  into  afternoon,  bridging  slowly  but 
surely  the  gulf  that  Neewa's  comradeship  had 
wrought.  For  a  time  the  exciting  thrill  of  his  adven- 

126 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  127 

ture  was  gone.  Half  a  dozen  times  he  hesitated  on 
the  point  of  turning  back  to  Neewa.  It  was  hunger 
that  always  drove  him  on  a  little  farther.  He  found 
two  more  crawfish.  Then  the  creek  deepened  and 
its  water  ran  slowly,  and  was  darker.  Twice  he 
chased  old  rabbits,  that  got  away  from  him  easily. 
Once  he  came  within  an  ace  of  catching  a  young  one. 
Frequently  a  partridge  rose  with  a  thunder  of  wings. 
He  saw  moose-birds,  and  jays,  and  many  squirrels. 
All  about  him  was  meat  which  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  catch.  Then  fortune  turned  his  way. 
Poking  his  head  into  the  end  of  a  hollow  log  he 
cornered  a  rabbit  so  completely  that  there  was  no 
escape.  During  the  next  few  minutes  he  indulged 
in  the  first  square  meal  he  had  eaten  for  three  days. 
So  absorbed  was  he  in  his  feast  that  he  was  uncon- 
scious of  a  new  arrival  on  the  scene.  He  did  not  hear 
the  coming  of  Oochak,  the  fisher-cat;  nor,  for  a  few 
moments,  did  he  smell  him.  It  was  not  in  Oochak's 
nature  to  make  a  disturbance.  He  was  by  birth  and 
instinct  a  valiant  hunter  and  a  gentleman,  and  when 
he  saw  Miki  (whom  he  took  to  be  a  young  wolf)  feed- 
ing on  a  fresh  kill,  he  made  no  move  to  demand  a 
share  for  himself.  Nor  did  he  run  away.  He  would 


128  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

undoubtedly  have  continued  on  his  way  very  soon 
if  Miki  had  not  finally  sensed  his  presence,  and  faced 
him. 

Oochak  had  come  from  the  other  side  ot  the  log, 
and  stood  not  more  than  six  feet  distant.  To  one 
who  knew  as  little  of  his  history  as  Miki  there 
was  nothing  at  all  ferocious  about  him.  He  was 
shaped  like  his  cousins,  the  weazel,  the  mink,  and 
the  skunk.  He  was  about  half  as  high  as  Miki,  and 
fully  as  long,  so  that  his  two  pairs  of  short  legs  seemed 
somewhat  out  of  place,  as  on  a  dachshund.  He 
probably  weighed  between  eight  and  ten  pounds,  had 
a  bullet  head,  almost  no  ears,  and  atrocious  whiskers. 
Also  he  had  a  bushy  tail  and  snapping  little  eyes  that 
seemed  to  bore  clean  through  whatever  he  looked  at. 
To  Miki  his  accidental  presence  was  a  threat  and  a 
challenge.  Besides,  Oochak  looked  like  an  easy  victim 
if  it  came  to  a  fight.  So  he  pulled  back  his  lips  and 
snarled. 

Oochak  accepted  this  as  an  invitation  for  him  to 
move  on,  and  being  a  gentleman  who  respected  other 
people's  preserves  he  made  his  apologies  by  beginning 
a  velvet-footed  exit.  This  was  too  much  for  Miki, 
who  had  yet  to  learn  the  etiquette  of  the  forest  trails. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  129 

Oochak  was  afraid  of  him.  He  was  running  away! 
With  a  triumphant  yelp  Miki  took  after  him.  After 
all,  it  was  simply  a  mistake  in  judgment.  (Many 
two-footed  animals  with  bigger  brains  than  Miki's 
had  made  similar  mistakes.)  For  Oochak,  attending 
always  to  his  own  business,  was,  for  his  size  and 
weight,  the  greatest  little  fighter  in  North  America. 

Just  what  happened  in  the  one  minute  that  fol- 
lowed his  assault  Miki  would  never  be  able  quite  to 
understand.  It  was  not  in  reality  a  fight;  it  was  a 
one-sided  immolation,  a  massacre.  His  first  impres- 
sion was  that  he  had  tackled  a  dozen  Oochaks  instead 
of  one.  Beyond  that  first  impression  his  mind  did 
not  work,  nor  did  his  eyes  visualize.  He  wag  whip- 
ped as  he  would  never  be  whipped  again  in  his  life. 
He  was  cut  and  bruised  and  bitten;  he  was  strangled 
and  stabbed;  he  was  so  utterly  mauled  that  for  a 
space  after  Oochak  had  gone  he  continued  to  rake 
the  air  with  his  paws,  unconscious  of  the  fact  that 
the  affair  was  over.  When  he  opened  his  eyes,  and 
found  himself  alone,  he  slunk  into  the  hollow  log 
where  he  had  cornered  the  rabbit. 

In  there  he  lay  a  good  half  hour,  trying  hard  to 
comprehend  just  what  had  happened.  The  sun  was 


130  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

setting  when  he  dragged  himself  out.  He  limped. 
His  one  good  ear  was  bitten  clean  through.  There 
were  bare  spots  on  his  hide  where  Oochak  had  scraped 
the  hair  off.  His  bones  ached,  his  throat" was  sore, 
and  there  was  a  lump  over  one  eye.  He  looked  long- 
ingly back  over  the  "home"  trail.  Up  there  was 
Neewa.  With  the  lengthening  shadows  of  the  day's 
end  a  great  loneliness  crept  upon  him  and  a  desire 
to  turn  back  to  his  comrade.  But  Oochak  had  gone 
that  way — and  he  did  not  want  to  meet  Oochak 
again. 

He  wandered  a  little  farther  south  and  east,  per- 
haps a  quarter  of  a  mile,  before  the  sun  disappeared 
entirely.  In  the  thickening  gloom  of  twilight  he 
struck  the  Big  Rock  portage  between  the  Beaver  and 
the  Loon. 

It  was  not  a  trail.  Only  at  rare  intervals  did  wander- 
ing voyageurs  coming  down  from  the  north  make  use 
of  it  in  their  passage  from  one  waterway  to  the  other. 
Three  or  four  times  a  year  at  the  most  would  a  wolf 
have  caught  the  scent  of  man  in  it.  It  was  there  to- 
night, so  fresh  that  Miki  stopped  when  he  came  to  it 
as  if  another  Oochak  had  risen  before  him.  For  a 
space  he  was  turned  into  the  rigidity  of  rock  by  a 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  131 

single  overwhelming  emotion.  All  other  things 
were  forgotten  in  the  fact  that  he  had  struck  the  trail 
of  a  man — and,  therefore,  the  trail  oj  Challoner,  his 
master.  He  began  to  follow  it — slowly  at  first,  as  if 
fearing  that  it  might  get  away  from  him.  Darkness 
came,  and  he  was  still  following  it.  In  the  light  of  the 
stars  he  persisted,  all  else  crowded  from  him  but  the 
homing  instinct  of  the  dog  and  the  desire  for  a  master. 

At  last  he  came  almost  to  the  shore  of  the  Loon, 
and  there  he  saw  the  campfire  of  Makoki  and  the 
white  man. 

He  did  not  rush  in.  He  did  not  bark  or  yelp;  the 
hard  schooling  of  the  wilderness  had  already  set  its 
mark  upon  him.  He  slunk  in  cautiously — then  stop- 
ped, flat  on  his  belly,  just  outside  the  rim  of  firelight. 
Then  he  saw  that  neither  of  the  men  was  Challoner. 
But  both  were  smoking,  as  Challoner  had  smoked. 
He  could  hear  their  voices,  and  they  were  like  Chal- 
loner's  voice.  And  the  camp  was  the  same — a  fire, 
a  pot  hanging  over  it,  a  tent,  and  in  the  air  the  odours 
of  recently  cooked  things. 

Another  moment  or  two  and  he  would  have  gone 

into  the  firelight.     But  the  white  man  rose  to  his 

i 

feet,  stretched  himself  as  he  had  often  seen  Challoner 


132  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

stretch,  and  picked  up  a  stick  of  wood  as  big  as  his 
arm.  He  came  within  ten  feet  of  Miki,  and  Miki 
wormed  himself  just  a  little  toward  him,  and  stood 
up  on  his  feet.  It  brought  him  into  a  half  light. 
His  eyes  were  aglow  with  the  reflection  of  the  fire. 
And  the  man  saw  him. 

In  a  flash  the  club  he  held  was  over  his  head;  it 
swung  through  the  air  with  the  power  of  a  giant  arm 
behind  it  and  was  launched  straight  at  Miki.  Had 
it  struck  squarely  it  would  have  killed  him.  The 
big  end  of  it  missed  him;  the  smaller  end  landed 
against  his  neck  and  shoulder,  driving  him  back  into 
the  gloom  with  such  force  and  suddenness  that  the 
man  thought  he  had  done  for  him.  He  called  out 
loudly  to  Makoki  that  he  had  killed  a  young  wolf  or 
a  fox,  and  dashed  out  into  the  darkness. 

The  club  had  knocked  Miki  fairly  into  the  heart 
of  a  thick  ground  spruce.  There  he  lay,  making  no 
sound,  with  a  terrible  pain  in  his  shoulder.  Between 
himself  and  the  fire  he  saw  the  man  bend  over  and 
pick  up  the  club.  He  saw  Makoki  hurrying  toward 
him  with  another  club,  and  under  his  shelter  he  made 
himself  as  small  as  he  could.  He  was  filled  with  a 
great  dread,  for  now  he  understood  the  truth.  These 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  133 

men  were  not  Challoner.  They  were  hunting  for 
him — with  clubs  in  their  hands.  He  knew  what  the 
clubs  meant.  His  shoulder  was  almost  broken. 

He  lay  very  still  while  the  men  searched  about  him. 
The  Indian  even  poked  his  stick  into  the  thick  ground 
spruce.  The  white  man  kept  saying  that  he  was  sure 
he  had  made  a  hit,  and  once  he  stood  so  near  that 
Miki's  nose  almost  touched  his  boot.  He  went  back 
and  added  fresh  birch  to  the  fire,  so  that  the  light  of 
it  illumined  a  greater  space  about  them.  Miki's 
heart  stood  still.  But  the  men  searched  farther  on, 
and  at  last  went  back  to  the  fire. 

For  an  hour  Miki  did  not  move.  The  fire  burned 
itself  low.  The  old  Cree  wrapped  himself  in  a  blan- 
ket, and  the  white  man  went  into  his  tent.  Not 
until  then  did  Miki  dare  to  crawl  out  from  under  the 
spruce.  With  his  bruised  shoulder  making  him  limp 
at  every  step  he  hurried  back  over  the  trail  which  he 
had  followed  so  hopefully  a  little  while  before.  The 
man-scent  no  longer  made  his  heart  beat  swiftly  with 
joy.  It  was  a  menace  now.  A  warning.  A  thing 
from  which  he  wanted  to  get  away.  He  would  sooner 
have  faced  Oochak  again,  or  the  owls,  than  the  white 
man  with  his  club.  With  the  owls  he  could  fight, 


134  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

but  in  the  club  he  sensed  an  overwhelming  superi- 
ority 

The  night  was  very  still  when  he  dragged  himself 
back  to  the  hollow  log  in  which  he  had  killed  the 
rabbit.  He  crawled  into  it,  and  nursed  his  wounds 
through  all  the  rest  of  the  hours  of  darkness.  In  the 
early  morning  he  came  out  and  ate  the  rest  of  the 
rabbit. 

After  that  he  faced  the  north  and  west — where 
Neewa  was.  There  was  no  hesitation  now.  He 
wanted  Neewa  again.  He  wanted  to  muzzle  him 
with  his  nose  and  lick  his  face  even  though  he  did 
smell  to  heaven.  He  wanted  to  hear  him  grunt  and 
squeal  in  his  funny,  companionable  way;  he  wanted 
to  hunt  with  him  again,  and  play  with  him,  and  lie 
down  beside  him  in  a  sunny  spot  and  sleep.  Neewa, 
at  last,  was  a  necessary  part  of  his  world. 

He  set  out. 

And  Neewa,  far  up  the  creek,  still  followed  hope- 
fully and  yearningly  over  the  trail  of  Miki. 

Half  way  to  the  dip,  in  a  small  open  meadow  that 
was  a  glory  of  sun,  they  met.  There  was  no  very 
great  demonstration.  They  stopped  and  looked  at 
each  other  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  make  sure  that 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  135 

there  was  no  mistake.  Neewa  grunted.  Miki  wag- 
ged his  tail.  They  smelled  noses.  Neewa  responded 
with  a  little  squeal,  and  Miki  whined.  It  was  as  if 
they  had  said, 

"Hello,  Miki!" 

"Hello,  Neewa!" 

And  then  Neewa  lay  down  in  the  sun  and  Miki 
sprawled  himself  out  beside  him.  After  all,  it  was  a 
funny  world.  It  went  to  pieces  now  and  then,  but 
it  always  came  together  again.  And  to-day  their 
world  had  thoroughly  adjusted  itself.  Once  more 
they  were  chums — and  they  were  happy. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

IT  WAS  the  Flying-Tip  Moon — deep  and  slumber- 
ing midsummer — in  all  the  land  of  Keewatin. 
From  Hudson  Bay  to  the  Athabasca  and  from 
the  Hight  of  Land  to  the  edge  of  the  Great  Barrens, 
forest,  plain,  and  swamp  lay  in  peace  and  forgetful- 
ness  under  the  sun-glowing  days  and  the  star-filled 
nights  of  the  August  Mukoo-sawin.  It  was  the 
breeding  moon,  the  growing  moon,  the  moon  when 
all  wild  life  came  into  its  own  once  more.  For  the 
trails  of  this  wilderness  world — so  vast  that  it  reached 
a  thousand  miles  east  and  west  and  as  far  north  and 
south — were  empty  of  human  life.  At  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company's  posts — scattered  here  and  there  over 
the  illimitable  domain  of  fang  and  claw — had  gath- 
ered the  thousands  of  hunters  and  trappers,  with 
their  wives  and  children,  to  sleep  and  gossip  and  play 
through  the  few  weeks  of  warmth  and  plenty  until  the 
strife  and  tragedy  of  another  winter  began.  For 
these  people  of  the  forests  it  was  MuJcoo-sawin — the 

136 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH          137 

great  Play  Day  of  the  year;  the  weeks  in  which  they 
ran  up  new  debts  and  established  new  credits  at  the 
Posts;  the  weeks  in  which  they  foregathered  at  every 
Post  as  at  a  great  fair — playing,  and  making  love, 
and  marrying,  and  fattening  up  for  the  many  days 
of  hunger  and  gloom  to  come. 

It  was  because  of  this  that  the  wild  things  had 
come  fully  into  the  possession  of  their  world  for  a 
space.  There  was  no  longer  the  scent  of  man  in  all 
the  wilderness.  They  were  not  hunted.  There  were 
no  traps  laid  for  their  feet,  no  poison-baits  placed 
temptingly  where  they  might  pass.  In  the  fens  and 
on  the  lakes  the  wildfowl  squawked  and  honked  un- 
fearing  to  their  young,  just  learning  the  power  of 
wing;  the  lynx  played  with  her  kittens  without  sniff- 
ing the  air  for  the  menace  of  man;  the  cow  moose 
went  openly  into  the  cool  water  of  the  lakes  with  their 
calves;  the  wolverine  and  the  marten  ran  playfully 
over  the  roofs  of  deserted  shacks  and  cabins;  the 
beaver  and  the  otter  tumbled  and  frolicked  in  their 
dark  pools;  the  birds  sang,  and  through  all  the  wilder- 
ness there  was  the  drone  and  song  of  Nature  as  some 
Great  Power  must  at  first  have  meant  that  Nature 
should  be.  A  new  generation  of  wild  things  had  been 


138  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

born.  It  was  a  season  of  Youth,  with  tens  of  thou- 
sands and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  little  children 
of  the  wild  playing  their  first  play,  learning  their  first 
lessons,  growing  up  swiftly  to  face  the  menace  and 
doom  of  their  first  winter.  And  the  Beneficent 
Spirit  of  the  forests,  anticipating  what  was  to  come, 
had  prepared  well  for  them.  Everywhere  there  was 
plenty.  The  blueberries,  the  blackberries,  the  moun- 
tain-ash and  the  saskatoons  were  ripe;  tree  and  vine 
were  bent  low  with  their  burden  of  fruit.  The  grass 
was  green  and  tender  from  the  summer  rains.  Bulb- 
ous roots  were  fairly  popping  out  of  the  earth;  the 
fens  and  the  edges  of  the  lakes  were  rich  with  things 
to  eat,  overhead  and  underfoot  the  horn  of  plenty  was 
emptying  itself  without  stint. 

In  this  world  Neewa  and  Miki  found  a  vast  and 
unending  contentment.  They  lay,  on  this  August 
afternoon,  on  a  sun-bathed  shelf  of  rock  that  over- 
looked a  wonderful  valley.  Neewa,  stuffed  with 
luscious  blueberries,  was  asleep.  Miki's  eyes  were 
only  partly  closed  as  he  looked  down  into  the  soft 
haze  of  the  valley.  Up  to  him  came  the  rippling  music 
of  the  stream  running  between  the  rocks  and  over 
the  pebbly  bars  below,  and  with  it  the  soft  and 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  139 

languorous  drone  of  the  valley  itself.  He  napped 
uneasily  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  his  eyes  opened 
and  he  was  wide  awake.  He  took  a  sharp  look  over 
the  valley.  Then  he  looked  at  Neewa,  who,  fat  and 
lazy,  would  have  slept  until  dark.  It  was  always 
Miki  who  kept  him  on  the  move.  And  now  Miki 
barked  at  him  gruffly  two  or  three  times,  and  nipped 
at  one  of  his  ears. 

"Wake  up!"  he  might  have  said.  "What's  the 
sense  of  sleeping  on  a  day  like  this?  Let's  go  down 
along  the  creek  and  hunt  something." 

Neewa  roused  himself,  stretched  his  fat  body,  and 
yawned.  Sleepily  his  little  eyes  took  in  the  valley. 
Miki  got  up  and  gave  the  low  and  anxious  whine 
which  always  told  his  companion  that  he  wanted  to 
be  on  the  move.  Neewa  responded,  and  they  began 
making  their  way  down  the  green  slope  into  the  rich 
bottom  between  the  two  ridges. 

They  were  now  almost  six  months  of  age,  and  in  the 
matter  of  size  had  nearly  ceased  to  be  a  cub  and  a 
pup.  They  were  almost  a  dog  and  a  bear.  Miki's 
angular  legs  were  getting  their  shape;  his  chest  had 
filled  out;  his  neck  had  grown  until  it  no  longer 
seemed  too  small  for  his  big  head  and  jaws,  and  his 


140  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

body  had  increased  in  girth  and  length  until  he  was 
twice  as  big  as  most  ordinary  dogs  of  his  age. 

Neewa  had  lost  his  round,  ball-like  cubbishness, 
though  he  still  betrayed  far  more  than  Miki  the  fact 
that  he  was  not  many  months  lost  from  his  mother. 
But  he  was  no  longer  filled  with  that  wholesome  love 
of  peace  that  had  filled  his  earlier  cubhood.  The 
blood  of  Soominitik  was  at  last  beginning  to  assert 
itself,  and  he  no  longer  sought  a  place  of  safety  in 
time  of  battle — unless  the  grimness  of  utter  necessity 
made  it  unavoidable.  In  fact,  unlike  most  bears,  he 
loved  a  fight.  If  there  were  a  stronger  term  at  hand 
it  .might  be  applied  to  Miki,  the  true  son  of  Hela. 
Youthful  as  they  were,  they  were  already  covered 
with  scars  that  would  have  made  a  veteran  proud. 
Crows  and  owls,  wolf-fang  and  fisher-claw  had  all 
left  their  marks,  and  on  Miki's  side  was  a  bare  space 
eight  inches  long  left  as  a  souvenir  by  a  wolverine. 

In  Neewa's  funny  round  head  there  had  grown, 
during  the  course  of  events,  an  ambition  to  have  it 
out  some  day  with  a  citizen  of  his  own  kind;  but  the 
two  opportunities  that  had  come  his  way  were  spoiled 
by  the  fact  that  the  other  cubs'  mothers  were  with 
them.  So  now,  when  Miki  led  off  on  his  trips  of  ad- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  141 

venture,  Neewa  always  followed  with  another  thrill 
than  that  of  getting  something  to  eat,  which  so  long 
had  been  his  one  ambition.  Which  is  not  to  say  that 
Neewa  had  lost  his  appetite.  He  could  eat  more  in 
one  day  than  Miki  could  eat  in  three,  mainly  because 
Mild  was  satisfied  with  two  or  three  meals  a  day 
while  Neewa  preferred  one — a  continuous  one  lasting 
from  dawn  until  dark.  On  the  trail  he  was  always 
eating  something. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  along  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  in  a 
stony  coulee  down  which  a  tiny  rivulet  trickled,  there 
grew  the  finest  wild  currants  in  all  the  Shamattawa 
country.  Big  as  cherries,  black  as  ink,  and  swelling 
almost  to  the  bursting  point  with  luscious  juice,  they 
hung  in  clusters  so  thick  that  Neewa  could  gather 
them  by  the  mouthful.  Nothing  in  all  the  wilder- 
ness is  quite  so  good  as  one  of  these  dead-ripe  black 
currants,  and  this  coulee  wherein  they  grew  so  richly 
Neewa  had  preempted  as  his  own  personal  property. 
Miki,  too,  had  learned  to  eat  the  currants;  so  to  the 
coulee  they  went  this  afternoon,  for  such  currants 
as  these  one  can  eat  even  when  one  is  already  full. 
Besides,  the  coulee  was  fruitful  for  Miki  in  other 
ways.  There  were  many  young  partridges  and  rab- 


142  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

bits  in  it — "fool  hens"  of  tender  flesh  and  delicious 
flavour  which  he  caught  quite  easily,  and  any  number 
of  gophers  and  squirrels. 

To-day  they  had  scarcely  taken  their  first  mouth- 
ful of  the  big  juicy  currants  when  an  unmistakable 
sound  came  to  them.  Unmistakable  because  each 
recognized  instantly  what  it  meant.  It  was  the 
tearing  down  of  currant  bushes  twenty  or  thirty 
yards  higher  up  the  coulee.  Some  robber  had  in- 
vaded their  treasure-house,  and  instantly  Miki  bared 
his  fangs  while  Neewa  wrinkled  up  his  nose  in  an 
ominous  sriarl.  Soft-footed  they  advanced  toward 
the  sound  until  they  came  to  the  edge  of  a  small  open 
space  which  was  as  flat  as  a  table.  In  the  centre  of 
this  space  was  a  clump  of  currant  bushes  not  more 
than  a  yard  in  girth,  and  black  with  fruit;  and  squat- 
ted on  his  haunches  there,  gathering  the  laden  bushes 
in  his  arms,  was  a  young  black  bear  about  four  sizes 
larger  than  Neewa. 

In  that  moment  of  consternation  and  rage  Neewa 
did  not  take  size  into  consideration.  He  was  much 
in  the  frame  of  mind  of  a  man  returning  home  to  dis- 
cover his  domicile,  and  all  it  contained,  in  full  posses- 
sion of  another.  At  the  same  time  here  was  his  am- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  143 

bition  easily  to  be  achieved — his  ambition  to  lick  the 
daylight  out  of  a  member  of  his  own  kind.  Miki 
seemed  to  sense  this  fact.  Under  ordinary  condi- 
tions he  would  have  led  in  the  fray,  and  before  Neewa 
had  fairly  got  started,  would  have  been  at  the  impu- 
dent interloper's  throat.  But  now  something  held 
him  back,  and  it  was  Neewa  who  first  shot  out — like 
a  black  bolt — landing  squarely  in  the  ribs  of  his  un- 
suspecting enemy. 

(Old  Makoki,  the  Cree  runner,  had  he  seen  that 
attack,  would  instantly  have  found  a  name  for  the 
other  bear — "Petoot-a-wapis-kum,"  which  means, 
literally:  "Kicked-off-his-Feet."  Perhaps  he  would 
have  called  him  "Pete"  for  short.  For  the  Cree 
believes  in  fitting  names  to  fact,  and  Petoot-a- 
wapis-kum  certainly  fitted  the  unknown  bear  like  a 
glove.) 

Taken  utterly  by  surprise,  with  his  mouth  full  of 
berries,  he  was  bowled  over  like  an  -overfilled  bag 
under  the  force  of  Neewa's  charge.  So  complete  was 
his  discomfiture  for  the  moment  that  Miki,  watching 
the  affair  with  a  yearning  interest,  could  not  keep 
back  an  excited  yap  of  approbation.  Before  Pete 
could  understand  what  had  happened,  and  while 


144  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

the  berries  were  still  oozing  from  his  mouth,  Neewa 
was  at  his  throat — and  the  fun  began. 

Now  bears,  and  especially  young  bears,  have  a  way 
of  fighting  that  is  all  their  own.  It  reminds  one  of  a 
hair-pulling  contest  between  two  well-matched  ladies. 
There  are  no  rules  to  the  game — absolutely  none.  As 
Pete  and  Neewa  clinched,  their  hind  legs  began  to  do 
the  fighting,  and  the  fur  began  to  fly.  Pete,  being 
already  on  his  back — a  first-class  battling  position 
for  a  bear — would  have  possessed  an  advantage  had 
it  not  been  for  Neewa's  ferocious  hold  at  his  throat. 
As  it  was,  Neewa  sank  his  fangs  in  to  their  full  length, 
and  scrubbed  away  for  dear  life  with  his  sharp  hind 
claws.  Mild  drew  nearer  at  sight  of  the  flying  fur, 
his  soul  filled  with  joy.  Then  Pete  got  one  leg  into 
action,  and  then  the  other,  and  Miki's  jaws  came 
together  with  a  sudden  click.  Over  and  over  the 
two  fighters  rolled,  Neewa  holding  to  his  throat-grip, 
and  not  a  squeal  or  a  grunt  came  from  either  of  them. 
Pebbles  and  dirt  flew  along  with  hair  and  fur.  Stones 
rolled  with  a  clatter  down  the  coulee.  The  very  air 
trembled  with  the  thrill  of  combat.  In  Miki's  atti- 
tude of  tense  waiting  there  was  sometliing  now  oi 
suspicious  anxiety.  With  eight  furry  legs  scratching 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  145 

and  tearing  furiously,  and  the  two  fighters  rolling 
and  twisting  and  contorting  themselves  like  a  pair  of 
windmills  gone  mad,  it  was  almost  impossible  for 
Miki  to  tell  who  was  getting  the  worst  of  it — Neewa 
or  Pete;  at  least  he  was  in  doubt  for  a  matter  of  three 
or  four  minutes. 

Then  he  recognized  Neewa's  voice.  It  was  very 
faint,  but  for  all  that  it  was  an  unmistakable  bawl 
of  pain. 

Smothered  under  Pete's  heavier  body  Neewa  be- 
gan to  realize,  at  the  end  of  those  three  or  four  min- 
utes, that  he  had  tackled  more  than  was  good  for  him. 
It  was  altogether  Pete's  size  and  not  his  fighting 
qualities,  for  Neewa  had  him  outpointed  there.  But 
he  fought  on,  hoping  for  some  good  turn  of  luck,  until 
at  last  Pete  got  him  just  where  he  wanted  him  and 
began  raking  him  up  and  down  his  sides  until  in  an- 
other three  minutes  he  would  have  been  half  skinned 
if  Miki  hadn't  judged  the  moment  ripe  for  interven- 
tion. Even  then  Neewa  was  taking  his  punishment 
without  a  howl. 

In  another  instant  Miki  had  Pete  by  the  ear.  It 
was  a  grim  and  terrible  hold.  Old  Soominitik  him- 
self would  have  bawled  lustily  in  the  circumstances. 


146  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Pete  raised  his  voice  in  a  howl  of  agony.  He  forgot 
everything  else  but  the  terror  and  the  pain  of  this  new 
something  that  had  him  by  the  ear,  and  he  rent  the 
air  with  his  outcry.  His  lamentation  poured  in  an 
unbroken  spasm  of  sound  from  his  thoat.  Neewa 
knew  that  Miki  was  in  action. 

He  pulled  himself  from  under  the  young  interlop- 
er's body — and  not  a  second  too  soon.  Down  the 
ctfulee,  charging  like  a  mad  bull,  came  Pete's  mother. 
Neewa  was  off  like  a  shot  just  as  she  made  a  powerful 
swing  at  him.  The  blow  missed,  and  the  old  bear 
turned  excitedly  to  her  bawling  offspring.  Miki, 
hanging  joyously  to  his  victim,  was  oblivious  of  his 
danger  until  Pete's  mother  was  almost  upon  him. 
He  caught  sight  of  her  just  as  her  long  arm  shot  out 
like  a  wooden  beam.  He  dodged;  and  the  blow  in- 
tended for  him  landed  full  against  the  side  of  the  un- 
fortunate Pete's  head  with  a  force  that  took  him  clean 
off  his  feet  and  sent  him  flying  like  a  football  twenty 
yards  down  the  coulee. 

Miki  did  not  wait  for  further  results.  Quick  as  a 
flash  he  was  in  a  currant  thicket  tearing  down  the 
little  gulch  after  Neewa.  They  came  out  on  the  plain 
together,  and  for  a  good  ten  minutes  they  did  not  halt 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  147 

in  their  flight  long  enough  to  look  back.  When  they 
did,  the  coulee  was  a  mile  away.  They  sat  down, 
panting.  Neewa's  red  tongue  was  hanging  out  in  his 
exhaustion.  He  was  scratched  and  bleeding;  loose 
hair  hung  all  over  him.  As  he  looked  at  Miki  there 
was  something  in  the  dolorous  expression  of  Neewa's 
face  which  was  a  confession  of  the  fact  that  he  real- 
ized Pete  had  licked  him. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

A  PER  the  fight  in  the  coulee  there  was  no 
longer  a  thought  on  the  part  of  Neewa  and 
Miki  of  returning  to  the  Garden  of  Eden  in 
which  the  black  currants  grew  so  lusciously.  From 
the  tip  of  his  tail  to  the  end  of  his  nose  Miki  was  an 
adventurer,  and  like  the  nomadic  rovers  of  old  he  was 
happiest  when  on  the  move.  The  wilderness  had 
claimed  him  now,  body  and  soul,  and  it  is  probable 
that  he  would  have  shunned  a  human  camp  at  this 
stage  of  his  life,  even  as  Neewa  would  have  shunned 
it.  But  in  the  lives  of  beasts,  as  well  as  in  the  lives 
of  men,  Fate  plays  her  pranks  and  tricks,  and  even 
as  they  turned  into  the  vast  and  mystery-filled  spaces 
of  the  great  lake  and  waterway-country,  to  the  west, 
events  were  slowly  shaping  themselves  into  what  was 
to  be  perhaps  the  darkest  hour  of  gloom  in  the  life  of 
Miki,  son  of  Hela. 

Through  six  glorious  and  sun-filled  weeks  of  late 
summer   and   early   autumn — until   the   middle   of 

148 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  149 

September — Miki  and  Neewa  ranged  the  country 
westward,  always  heading  toward  the  setting  sun, 
the  country  of  Jackson's  Knee,  of  the  Touchwood 
and  the  Clearwater,  and  God's  Lake.  In  this  coun- 
try they  saw  many  things.  It  was  a  region  a  hundred 
miles  square  which  the  handiwork  of  Nature  had 
made  into  a  veritable  kingdom  of  the  wild.  They 
came  upon  great  beaver  colonies  in  the  dark  and 
silent  places;  they  watched  the  otter  at  play;  they 
came  upon  moose  and  caribou  so  frequently  that 
they  no  longer  feared  or  evaded  them,  but  walked 
out  openly  into  the  meadows  or  down  to  the  edge 
of  the  swamps  where  they,  were  feeding.  It  was 
here  that  Miki  learned  the  great  lesson  that  claw 
and  fang  were  made  to  prey  upon  cloven  hoof  and 
horn,  for  the  wolves  were  thick,  and  a  dozen  times 
they  came  upon  then*  kills,  and  even  more  frequently 
heard  the  wild  tongue  of  the  hunting-packs.  Since 
his  experience  with  Maheegun  he  no  longer  had  the 
desire  to  join  them.  And  now  Neewa  no  longer  in- 
sisted on  remaining  near  meat  when  they  found  it. 
It  was  the  beginning  of  the  Kwaska-Hao  in  Neewa — 
the  instinctive  sensing  of  the  Big  Change. 

Until  early  in  October  Miki  could  see  but  little  of 


150  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

this  change  in  his  comrade.  It  was  then  that  Neewa 
became  more  and  more  restless,  and  this  restlessness 
grew  as  the  chill  nights  came,  and  autumn  breathed 
more  heavily  in  the  air.  It  was  Neewa  who  took 
the  lead  in  their  peregrinations  now,  and  he  seemed 
always  to  be  questing  for  something — a  mysterious 
something  which  Mild  could  neither  smell  nor  see. 
He  no  longer  slept  for  hours  at  a  time.  By  mid- 
October  he  slept  scarcely  at  all,  but  roved  through 
most  of  the  hours  of  night  as  well  as  day,  eating,  eat- 
ting,  eating,  and  always  smelling  the  wind  for  that 
elusive  thing  which  Nature  was  commanding  him 
to  seek  and  find.  Ceaselessly  he  was  nosing  under 
windfalls  and  among  the  rocks,  and  Miki  was  always 
near  him,  always  on  the  qui  vive  for  battle  with  the 
thing  that  Neewa  was  hunting  out.  And  it  seemed 
to  be  never  found. 

Then  Neewa  turned  back  to  the  east,  drawn  by 
the  instinct  of  his  forefathers;  back  toward  the  coun- 
try of  Noozak,  his  mother,  and  of  Soominitik,  his 
father;  and  Miki  followed.  The  nights  grew  more 
and  more  chill.  The  stars  seemed  farther  away,  and 
no  longer  was  the  forest  moon  red  like  blood.  The 
cry  of  the  loon  had  a  moaning  note  in  it,  a  note  of 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  151 

grief  and  lamentation.  And  in  their  shacks  and 
tepees  the  forest  people  sniffed  the  air  of  frosty  morn- 
ings, and  soaked  their  traps  in  fish-oil  and  beaver- 
grease,  and  made  their  moccasins,  and  mended  snow- 
shoe  and  sledge,  for  the  cry  of  the  loon  said  that 
winter  was  creeping  down  out  of  the  North.  And 
the  swamps  grew  silent.  The  cow  moose  no  longer 
mooed  to  her  young.  In  place  of  it,  from  the  open 
plain  and  "burn"  rose  the  defiant  challenge  of  bull 
to  bull  and  the  deadly  clash  of  horn  against  horn 
under  the  stars  of  night.  The  wolf  no  longer  howled 
to  hear  his  voice.  In  the  travel  of  padded  feet  there 
came  to  be  a  slinking,  hunting  caution.  In  all  the 
forest  world  blood  was  running  red  again. 

And  then — November. 

Perhaps  Miki  would  never  forget  that  first  day 
when  the  snow  came.  At  first  he  thought  all  the 
winged  things  in  the  world  were  shedding  their  white 
feathers.  Then  he  felt  the  fine,  soft  touch  of  it  under 
his  feet,  and  the  chill.  It  sent  the  blood  rushing  like 
a  new  kind  of  fire  through  his  body;  a  wild  and  thrill- 
ing joy — the  exultation  that  leaps  through  the  veins 
of  the  wolf  when  the  winter  comes. 

With  Neewa  its  effect  was  different — so  different 


152  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

that  even  Miki  felt  the  oppression  of  it,  and  waited 
vaguely  and  anxiously  for  what  was  to  come.  And 
then,  on  this  day  of  the  first  snow,  he  saw  his  comrade 
do  a  strange  and  unaccountable  thing.  He  began  to 
eat  things  that  he  had  never  touched  as  food  before. 
He  lapped  up  soft  pine  needles,  and  swallowed  them. 
He  ate  of  the  dry,  pulpy  substance  of  rotted  logs. 
And  then  he  went  into  a  great  cleft  broken  into  the 
heart  of  a  rocky  ridge,  and  found  at  last  the  thing  for 
which  he  had  been  seeking.  It  was  a  cavern — deep, 
and  dark,  and  warm. 

Nature  works  in  strange  ways.  She  gives  to  the 
birds  of  the  air  eyes  which  men  may  never  have,  and 
she  gives  to  the  beasts  of  the  earth  an  instinct  which 
men  may  never  know.  For  Neewa  had  come  back 
to  sleep  his  first  Long  Sleep  in  the  place  of  his  birth — 
the  cavern  in  which  Noozak,  his  mother,  had  brought 
him  into  the  world. 

His  old  bed  was  still  there,  the  wallow  in  the  soft 
sand,  the  blanket  of  hair  Noozak  had  shed;  but  the 
smell  of  his  mother  was  gone.  In  the  nest  where  he 
was  born  Neewa  lay  down,  and  for  the  last  time  he 
grunted  softly  to  Miki.  It  was  as  if  he  felt  upon  him 
the  touch  of  a  hand,  gentle  but  inevitable,  which  he 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  153 

could  no  longer  refuse  to  obey,  and  to  Mild  was  say- 
ing, for  the  last  time:     "Good-night!" 

That  night  the  pipoo  kestin — the  first  storm  of 
winter — came  like  an  avalanche  from  out  of  the 
North.  With  it  came  a  wind  that  was  like  the  roar- 
ing of  a  thousand  bulls,  and  over  all  the  land  of  the 
wild  there  was  nothing  that  moved.  Even  in  the 
depth  of  the  cavern  Miki  heard  the  beat  and  the  wail 
of  it  and  the  swishing  of  the  shot-like  snow  beyond 
the  door  through  which  they  had  come,  and  he  snug- 
gled close  to  Neewa,  content  that  they  had  found 
shelter. 

With  the  day  he  went  to  the  slit  in  the  faoe  of  the 
rock,  and  in  his  astonishment  he  made  no  sound, 
but  stared  forth  upon  a  world  that  was  no  longer  the 
world  he  had  left  last  night.  Everywhere  it  was 
white — a  dazzling,  eye-blinding  white.  The  sun 
had  risen.  It  shot  a  thousand  flashing  shafts  of 
radiant  light  into  Miki's  eyes.  So  far  as  his  vision 
could  reach  the  earth  was  as  if  covered  with  a  robe 
of  diamonds.  From  rock  and  tree  and  shrub  blazed 
the  fire  of  the  sun;  it  quivered  in  the  tree-tops,  bent 
low  with  their  burden  of  snow;  it  was  like  a  sea  in  the 


154  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

valley,  so  vivid  that  the  unfrozen  stream  running 
through  the  heart  of  it  was  black.  Never  had  Miki 
seen  a  day  so  magnificent.  Never  had  his  heart 
pounded  at  the  sight  of  the  sun  as  it  pounded  now,  and 
never  had  his  blood  burned  with  a  wilder  exultation. 
He  whined,  and  ran  back  to  Neewa.  He  barked 
in  the  gloom  of  the  cavern  and  gave  his  comrade  a 
nudge  with  his  nose.  Neewa  grunted  sleepily.  He 
stretched  himself,  raised  his  head  for  an  instant,  and 
then  curled  himself  into  a  ball  again.  Vainly  Miki 
protested  that  it  was  day,  and  time  for  them  to  be 
moving.  Neewa  made  no  response,  and  after  a  while 
Miki  returned  to  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  and  looked 
back  to  see  if  Neewa  was  following  him.  Then,  dis- 
appointed, he  went  out  into  the  snow.  For  an  hour 
he  did  not  move  farther  than  ten  feet  away  from  the 
den.  Three  times  he  returned  to  Neewa  and  urged 
him  to  get  up  and  come  out  where  it  was  light.  In 
that  far  corner  of  the  cavern  it  was  dark,  and  it  was 
as  if  he  were  trying  to  tell  Neewa  that  he  was  a  dunce 
to  lie  there  still  thinking  it  was  night  when  the  sun 
was  up  outside.  But  he  failed.  Neewa  was  in  the 
edge  of  his  Long  Sleep — the  beginning  of  Uske-pow- 
a-mew,  the  dream  land  of  the  bears. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  155 

Annoyance,  the  desire  almost  to  sink  his  teeth  in 
Neewa's  ear,  gave  place  slowly  to  another  thing  in 
Miki.  The  instinct  that  between  beasts  is  like  the 
spoken  reason  of  men  stirred  in  a  strange  and  dis- 
quieting way  within  him.  He  became  more  and 
more  uneasy.  There  was  almost  distress  in  his  rest- 
lessness as  he  hovered  about  the  mouth  of  the  cavern. 
A  last  time  he  went  to  Neewa,  and  then  he  started 
alone  down  into  the  valley. 

He  was  hungry,  but  on  this  first  day  after  the 
storm  there  was  small  chance  of  him  finding  anything 
to  eat.  The  snowshoe  rabbits  were  completely 
buried  under  their  windfalls  and  shelters,  and  lay 
quietly  in  their  warm  nests.  Nothing  had  moved 
during  the  hours  of  the  storm.  There  were  no  trails 
of  living  things  for  him  to  follow,  and  in  places  he 
sank  to  his  shoulders  in  the  soft  snow.  He  made  his 
way  to  the  creek.  It  was  no  longer  the  creek  he  had 
known.  It  was  edged  with  ice.  There  was  some- 
thing dark  and  brooding  about  it  now.  The  sound  it 
made  was  no  longer  the  rippling  song  of  summer  and 
golden  autumn.  There  was  a  threat  in  its  gurgling 
monotone — a  new  voice,  as  if  a  black  and  forbid- 
ding spirit  had  taken  possession  of  it  and  was  warning 


156  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

him  that  the  times  had  changed,  and  that  new  laws 
and  a  new  force  had  come  to  claim  sovereignty  in 
the  land  of  his  birth. 

He  drank  of  the  water  cautiously.  It  was  cold — 
ice-cold.  Slowly  it  was  being  impinged  upon  him 
that  in  the  beauty  of  this  new  world  that  was  his 
there  was  no  longer  the  warm  and  pulsing  beat  of 
the  heart  that  was  life.  He  was  alone.  ALONE! 
Everything  else  was  covered  up;  everything  else 
seemed  dead. 

He  went  back  to  Neewa  and  lay  dose  to  him  all 
through  the  day.  And  through  the  night  that  fol- 
lowed he  did  not  move  again  from  the  cavern.  He 
went  only  as  far  as  the  door  and  saw  celestial  spaces 
ablaze  with  stars  and  a  moon  that  rode  up  into  the 
heavens  like  a  white  sun.  They,  too,  seemed  no 
longer  like  the  moon  and  stars  he  had  known.  They 
were  terribly  still  and  cold.  And  under  them  the 
earth  was  terribly  white  and  silent. 

With  the  coming  of  dawn  he  tried  once  more  to 
awaken  Neewa.  But  this  time  he  was  not  so  insis- 
tent. Nor  did  he  have  the  desire  to  nip  Neewa 
with  his  teeth.  Something  had  happened — some- 
thing which  he  could  not  understand.  He  sensed 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  157 

the  thing,  but  he  could  not  reason  it.  And  he  was 
filled  with  a  strange  and  foreboding  fear. 

He  went  down  again  to  hunt.  Under  the  glory 
of  the  moon  and  stars  it  had  been  a  wild  night  of 
carnival  for  the  rabbits,  and  in  the  edge  of  the  tim- 
ber Miki  found  the  snow  beaten  hard  in  places  with 
their  tracks.  It  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  stalk 
his  breakfast  this  morning.  He  made  his  kill, 
and  feasted.  He  killed  again  after  that,  and  still 
again.  He  could  have  gone  on  killing,  for  now  that 
the  snow  betrayed  them,  the  hiding-places  of  the 
rabbits  were  so  many  traps  for  them.  Miki's 
courage  returned.  He  was  fired  again  with  the  joy 
of  life.  Never  had  he  known  such  hunting,  never 
had  he  found  such  a  treasure-house  before — not 
even  hi  the  coulee  where  the  currants  grew.  He 
ate  until  he  could  eat  no  more,  and  then  he  went  back 
to  Neewa,  carrying  with  him  one  of  the  rabbits  he  had 
slain.  He  dropped  it  in  front  of  his  comrade,  and 
whined.  Even  then  Neewa  did  not  respond,  except  to 
draw  a  deeper  breath,  and  change  his  position  a  little. 

That  afternoon,  for  the  first  time  in  many  hours, 
Neewa  rose  to  his  feet,  stretched  himself,  and  sniffed 
of  the  dead  rabbit.  But  he  did  not  eat.  To  Miki's 


158  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

consternation  he  rolled  himself  round  and  round  in 
his  nest  of  sand  and  went  to  sleep  again. 

The  next  day,  at  about  the  same  time,  Neewa 
roused  himself  once  more.  This  time  he  went  as 
far  as  the  mouth  of  the  den,  and  lapped  up  a  few 
mouthfuls  of  snow.  But  he  still  refused  to  eat  the 
rabbit.  Again  it  was  Nature  telling  him  that  he 
must  not  disturb  the  pine  needles  and  dry  bark 
with  which  he  had  padded  his  stomach  and  intes- 
tines. And  he  went  to  sleep  again.  He  did  not 
get  up  after  that. 

Day  followed  day,  and,  growing  lonelier  as  the 
winter  deepened,  Miki  hunted  alone.  All  through 
November  he  came  back  each  night  and  slept  with 
Neewa.  And  Neewa  was  as  if  dead,  except  that  his 
body  was  warm,  and  he  breathed,  and  made  little 
sounds  now  and  then  in  his  throat.  But  this  did 
not  satisfy  the  great  yearning  that  was  becoming 
more  and  more  insistent  in  Miki's  soul,  the  over- 
whelming desire  for  company,  for  a  brotherhood  on 
the  trail.  He  loved  Neewa.  Through  the  first 
long  weeks  of  winter  he  returned  to  him  faithfully; 
he  brought  him  meat.  He  was  filled  with  a  strange 
grief — even  greater  than  if  Neewa  had  been  dead. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  159 

For  Miki  knew  that  he  was  alive,  and  he  could 
not  account  for  the  thing  that  had  happened. 
Death  he  would  have  understood,  and  from  death 
he  would  have  gone  away — for  good. 

So  it  came  that  one  night,  having  hunted  far, 
Miki  remained  away  from  the  den  for  the  first  time, 
and  slept  under  a  deep  windfall.  After  that  it  was 
still  harder  for  him  to  resist  the  call.  A  second  and 
a  third  night  he  went  away;  and  then  came  the  time 
— inevitable  as  the  coming  and  going  of  the  moon'and 
stars — when  understanding  at  last  broke  its  way 
through  his  hope  and  his  fear,  and  something  told 
him  that  Neewa  would  never  again  travel  with  him 
as  through  those  glorious  days  of  old,  when  shoulder 
to  shoulder  they  had  faced  together  the  comedies  and 
tragedies  of  life  in  a  world  that  was  no  longer  soft 
and  green  and  warm  with  a  golden  sun,  but  white, 
and  still,  and  filled  with  death. 

Neewa  did  not  know  when  Miki  went  away  from 
the  den  for  the  last  time.  And  yet  it  may  be  that 
even  in  his  slumber  the  Beneficent  Spirit  may  have 
whispered  that  Miki  was  going,  for  there  were  rest- 
lessness and  disquiet  in  Neewa's  dreamland  for 
many  days  thereafter. 


160  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

"Be  quiet — and  sleep!"  the  Spirit  may  have  whis- 
pered. "The  Winter  is  long.  The  rivers  are  black 
and  chill,  the  lakes  are  covered  with  floors  of  ice, 
and  the  waterfalls  are  frozen  like  great  white  giants. 
Sleep !  For  Miki  must  go  his  way,  just  as  the  waters 
of  the  streams  must  go  their  way  to  the  sea.  For  he 
is  Dog.  And  you  are  Bear.  Sleep!" 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

IN  MANY  years  there  had  not  been  such  a  storm 
in  all  the  Northland  as  that  which  followed 
swiftly  in  the  trail  of  the  first  snows  that  had 
driven  Neewa  into  his  den — the  late  November 
storm  of  that  year  which  will  long  be  remembered 
as  Kusketa  Pippoon  (the  Black  Year),  the  year  of 
great  and  sudden  cold,  of  starvation  and  of  death. 

It  came  a  week  after  Miki  had  left  the  cavern 
wherein  Neewa  was  sleeping  so  soundly.  Preceding 
that,  when  all  the  forest  world  lay  under  its  mantle 
of  white,  the  sun  shone  day  after  day,  and  the  moon 
and  stars  were  as  clear  as  golden  fires  in  the  night 
skies.  The  wind  was  out  of  the  west.  The  rabbits 
were  so  numerous  they  made  hard  floors  of  the  snow 
in  thicket  and  swamp.  Caribou  and  moose  were 
plentiful,  and  the  early  cry  of  wolves  on  the  hunt  was 
like  music  in  the  ears  of  a  thousand  trappers  in 
shack  and  teepee. 

With  appalling  suddenness  came  the  unexpected. 

161 


162  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

There  was  no  warning.  The  day  had  dawned  with 
a  clear  sky,  and  a  bright  sun  followed  the  dawn. 
Then  the  world  darkened  so  swiftly  that  men  on  their 
traplines  paused  in  amazement.  With  the  deepen- 
ing gloom  came  a  strange  moaning,  and  there  was 
something  in  that  sound  that  seemed  like  the  rolling 
of  a  great  drum — the  knell  of  an  impending  doom. 
It  was  thunder.  The  warning  was  too  late.  Before 
men  could  turn  back  to  safety,  or  build  themselves 
shelters,  the  Big  Storm  was  upon  them.  For 
three  days  and  three  nights  it  raged  like  a  mad  bull 
from  out  of  the  north.  In  the  open  barrens  no  living 
creature  could  stand  upon  its  feet.  The  forests 
were  broken,  and  all  the  earth  was  smothered.  All 
things  that  breathed  buried  themselves — or  died; 
for  the  snow  that  piled  itself  up  in  windrows  and 
mountains  was  round  and  hard  as  leaden  shot,  and 
with  it  came  an  intense  cold. 

On  the  third  day  it  was  sixty  degrees  below  zero 
in  the  country  between  the  Shamattawa  and  Jack- 
son's Knee.  Not  until  the  fourth  day  did  living 
things  begin  to  move.  Moose  and  caribou  heaved 
themselves  up  out  of  the  thick  covering  of  snow  that 
had  been  their  protection;  smaller  animals  dug  their 


,  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  163 

way  out  of  the  heart  of  deep  drifts  and  mounds;  a  half 
of  the  rabbits  and  birds  were  dead.  But  the  most 
terrible  toll  was  of  men.  Many  of  those  who  were 
caught  out  succeeded  in  keeping  the  life  within  their 
bodies,  and  dragged  themselves  back  to  teepee  and 
shack.  But  there  were  also  many  who  did  not  re- 
turn— five  hundred  who  died  between  Hudson  Bay 
and  the  Athabasca  in  those  three  terrible  days  of  the 
Kusketa  Pippoon. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  Big  Storm  Miki  found 
himself  in  the  "burnt"  country  of  Jackson's  Knee, 
and  instinct  sent  him  quickly  into  deeper  timber. 
Here  he  crawled  into  a  windfall  of  tangled  trunks  and 
tree-tops,  and  during  the  three  days  he  did  not  move. 
Buried  in  the  heart  of  the  storm,  there  came  upon 
him  an  overwhelming  desire  to  return  to  Neewa's 
den,  and  to  snuggle  up  to  him  once  more,  even 
though  Neewa  lay  as  if  dead.  The  strange  comrade- 
ship that  had  grown  up  between  the  two — their 
wanderings  together  all  through  the  summer,  the 
joys  and  hardships  of  the  days  and  months  in  which 
they  had  fought  and  feasted  like  brothers — were 
memories  as  vivid  in  his  brain  as  if  it  had  all 
happened  yesterday.  And  in  the  dark  wind- 


164  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

fall,  buried  deeper  and  deeper  under  the  snow,  he 
dreamed. 

He  dreamed  of  Challoner,  who  had  been  his 
master  in  the  days  of  his  joyous  puppyhood;  he 
dreamed  of  the  time  when  Neewa,  the  motherless 
cub,  was  brought  into  camp,  and  of  the  happenings 
that  had  come  to  them  afterward;  the  loss  of  his 
master,  of  their  strange  and  thrilling  adventures  in 
the  wilderness,  and  last  of  all  of  Neewa's  denning- 
up.  He  could  not  understand  that.  Awake,  and 
listening  to  the  storm,  he  wondered  why  it  was  that 
Neewa  no  longer  hunted  with  him,  but  had  curled 
himself  up  into  a  round  ball,  and  slept  a  sleep  from 
which  he  could  not  rouse  him.  Through  the  long 
hours  of  the  three  days  and  nights  of  storm  it  was 
loneliness  more  than  hunger  that  ate  at  his  vitals. 
When  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  he  came  out 
from  under  the  windfall  his  ribs  were  showing  and 
there  was  a  reddish  film  over  his  eyes.  First  of  all 
he  looked  south  and  east,  and  whined. 

Through  twenty  miles  of  snow  he  travelled  back 
that  day  to  the  ridge  where  he  had  left  Neewa.  On 
this  fourth  day  the  sun  shone  like  a  dazzling  fire. 
It  was  so  bright  that  the  glare  of  the  snow  pricked 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  16i 

his  eyes,  and  the  reddish  film  grew  redder.  There 
was  only  a  cold  glow  in  the  west  when  he  came  to  the 
end  of  his  journey.  Dusk  had  already  begun  to 
settle  over  the  roofs  of  the  forests  when  he  reached 
the  ridge  where  Neewa  had  found  the  cavern.  It 
was  no  longer  a  ridge.  The  wind  had  piled  the  snow 
up  over  it  in  grotesque  and  monstrous  shapes.  Rocks 
and  bushes  were  obliterated.  Where  the  mouth  of 
the  cavern  should  have  been  was  a  drift  ten  feet  deep. 
Cold  and  hungry,  thinned  by  his  days  and  nights 
of  fasting,  and  with  his  last  hope  of  comradeship 
shattered  by  the  pitiless  mountains  of  snow,  Miki 
turned  back  over  his  trail.  There  was  nothing  left 
for  him  now  but  the  old  windfall,  and  his  heart  was 
no  longer  the  heart  of  the  joyous  comrade  and  brother 
of  Neewa,  the  bear.  His  feet  were  sore  and  bleed- 
ing, but  still  he  went  on.  The  stars  came  out;  the 
night  was  ghostly  white  in  their  pale  fire;  and  it  was 
cold — terribly  cold.  The  trees  began  to  snap. 
Now  and  then  there  came  a  report  like  a  pistol-shot 
as  the  frost  snapped  at  the  heart  of  timber.  It 
was  thirty  degrees  below  zero.  And  it  was  growing 
colder.  With  the  windfall  as  his  only  inspiration 
Miki  drove  himself  on.  Never  had  he  tested  his 


166  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

strength  or  his  endurance  as  he  strained  them  now. 
Older  dogs  would  have  fallen  in  the  trail  or  have 
sought  shelter  or  rest.  But  Miki  was  the  true  son 
of  Hela,  his  giant  Mackenzie  hound  father,  and  he 
would  have  continued  until  he  triumphed — or  died. 
1  But  a  strange  thing  happened.  He  had  travelled 
twenty  miles  to  the  ridge,  and  fifteen  of  the  twenty 
miles  back,  when  a  shelf  of  snow  gave  way  under  his 
feet  and  he  was  pitched  suddenly  downward.  When 
he  gathered  his  dazed  wits  and  stood  up  on  his 
half  frozen  legs  he  found  himself  in  a  curious  place. 
He  had  rolled  completely  into  a  wigwam-shaped 
shelter  of  spruce  boughs  and  sticks,  and  strong  in  his 
nostrils  was  the  smell  of  meat.  He  found  the  meat 
not  more  than  a  foot  from  the  end  of  his  nose.  It 
was  a  chunk  of  frozen  caribou  flesh  transfixed  on  a 
stick,  and  without  questioning  the  manner  of  its 
presence  he  gnawed  at  it  ravenously.  Only  Jacques 
Le  Beau,  who  lived  eight  or  ten  miles  to  the  east, 
could  have  explained  the  situation.  Miki  had  rolled 
into  one  of  his  trap-houses,  and  it  was  the  bait  he  was 
eating. 

There  was  not  much  of  it,  but  it  fired  Miki's 
blood  with  new  life.     There  was  smell  in  his  nostrils 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  167 

now,  and  he  began  clawing  in  the  snow.  After 
a  little  his  teeth  struck  something  hard  and  cold. 
It  was  steel — a  fisher  trap.  He  dragged  it  up  from 
under  a  foot  of  snow,  and  with  it  came  a  huge  rabbit. 
The  snow  had  so  protected  the  rabbit  that,  although 
several  days  dead,  it  was  not  frozen  stiff.  Not  until 
the  last  bone  of  it  was  gone  did  Miki's  feast  end. 
He  even  devoured  the  head.  Then  he  went  on  to 
the  windfall,  and  in  his  warm  nest  slept  until  another 
day. 

That  day  Jacques  Le  Beau — whom  the  Indians 
called  "Muchet-ta-aao"  (the  One  with  an  Evil 
Heart) — went  over  his  trapline  and  rebuilt  his  snow- 
smothered  "houses"  and  re-set  his  traps. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  that  Miki,  who  was  hunt- 
ing, struck  his  trail  in  a  swamp  several  miles  from 
the  windfall.  No  longer  was  his  soul  stirred  by  the 
wild  yearning  for  a  master.  He  sniffed,  suspiciously, 
of  Le  Beau's  snowshoe  tracks  and  the  crest  along  his 
spine  trembled  as  he  caught  the  wind,  and  listened. 
He  followed  cautiously,  and  a  hundred  yards  farther 
on  came  to  one  of  Le  Beau's  JceJceks  or  trap-shelters. 
Here  too,  there  was  meat — fixed  on  a  peg.  Miki 
reached  in.  From  under  his  fore-paw  came  a  vicious 


168  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

snap  and  the  steel  jaws  of  a  trap  flung  sticks  and  snow 
into  his  face.  He  snarled,  and  for  a  few  moments 
he  waited,  with  his  eyes  on  the  trap.  Then  he 
stretched  himself  until  he  reached  the  meat,  without 
advancing  his  feet.  Thus  he  had  discovered  the 
hidden  menace  of  the  steel  jaws,  and  instinct  told 
him  how  to  evade  them. 

For  another  third  of  a  mile  he  followed  Le  Beau's 
tracks.  He  sensed  the  presence  of  a  new  and  thrill- 
ing danger,  and  yet  he  did  not  turn  off  the  trail. 
An  impulse  which  he  was  powerless  to  resist  drew 
him  on.  He  came  to  a  second  trap,  and  this  time 
he  robbed  the  bait-peg  without  springing  the  thing 
which  he  knew  was  concealed  close  under  it.  His 
long  fangs  clicked  as  he  went  on.  He  was  eager  for 
a  glimpse  of  the  man-beast.  But  he  did  not  hurry. 
A  third,  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth  trap  he  robbed  of  their 
meat. 

Then,  as  the  day  ended,  he  swung  westward  and 
covered  quickly  the  five  miles  between  the  swamp 
and  his  windfall. 

Half  an  hour  later  Le  Beau  came  back  over  the 
line.  He  saw  the  first  empty  JcekeJc,  and  the  tracks 
in  the  snow. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  169 

"Tonnerre! — a  wolf!"  he  exclaimed.  "And  in 
broad  day!" 

Then  a  slow  look  of  amazement  crept  into  his  face, 
and  he  fell  upon  his  knees  in  the  snow  and  examined 
the  tracks. 

"Non!"  he  gasped.  "It  is  a  dog!  A  devil  of  a 
wild  dog — robbing  my  traps!" 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  cursing.  From  the  pocket  of 
his  coat  he  drew  a  small  tin  box,  and  from  this  box 
he  took  a  round  ball  of  fat.  In  the  heart  of  the 
fat  was  a  strychnine  capsule.  It  was  a  poison-bait, 
to  be  set  for  wolves  and  foxes. 

Le  Beau  chuckled  exultantly  as  he  stuck  the  deadly 
lure  on  the  end  of  the  bait-peg. 

"Ow,  a  wild  dog,"  he  growled.  "I  will  teach  him. 
To-morrow  he  will  be  dead." 

On  each  of  the  five  ravished  bait-pegs  he  placed  a 
strychnine  capsule  rolled  in  its  inviting  little  ball  of 
fat. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

THE  next  morning  Miki  set  out  again  for  the 
trapline  of  Jacques  Le  Beau.  It  was  not  the 
thought  of  food  easily  secured  that  tempted 
him.  There  would  have  been  a  greater  thrill  in 
killing  for  himself.  It  was  the  trail,  with  its  smell 
of  the  man-beast,  that  drew  him  like  a  magnet. 
"Where  that  smell  was  very  strong  he  wanted  to  lie 
down,  and  wait.  Yet  with  his  desire  there  was  also 
fear,  and  a  steadily  growing  caution.  He  did  not 
tamper  with  the  first  kekek,  nor  with  the  second. 
At  the  third  Le  Beau  had  fumbled  in  the  placing 
of  his  bait,  and  for  that  reason  the  little  ball  of  fat 
was  strong  with  the  scent  of  his  hands.  A  fox  would 
have  turned  away  from  it  quickly.  Miki,  however, 
drew  it  from  the  peg  and  dropped  it  in  the  snow  be- 
tween his  forefeet.  Then  he  looked  about  him,  and 
listened  for  a  full  minute.  After  that  he  licked  the 
ball  of  fat  with  his  tongue.  The  scent  of  Le  Beau's 
hands  kept  him  from  swallowing  it  as  he  had  swal- 

170 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  171 

lowed  the  caribou  meat.  A  little  suspiciously  he 
crushed  it  slowly  between  his  jaws.  The  fat  was 
sweet.  He  was  about  to  gulp  it  down  when  he 
detected  another  and  less  pleasant  taste,  and  what 
remained  in  his  mouth  he  spat  out  upon  the  snow. 
But  the  acrid  bite  of  the  poison  remained  upon  his 
tongue  and  in  his  throat.  It  crept  deeper — and 
he  caught  up  a  mouthful  of  snow  and  swallowed  it 
to  put  out  the  burning  sensation  that  was  crawling 
nearer  to  his  vitals. 

Had  he  devoured  the  ball  of  fat  as  he  had  eaten"  the 
other  baits  he  would  have  been  dead  within  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  Le  Beau  would  not  have  gone  far  to 
find  his  body.  As  it  was,  he  was  beginning  to  turn 
sick  at  the  end  of  the  fifteen  minutes.  A  premoni- 
tion of  the  evil  that  was  upon  him  drew  him  off  the 
trail  and  in  the  direction  of  the  windfall.  He  had 
gone  only  a  short  distance  when  suddenly  his  legs 
gave  way  under  him,  and  he  fell.  He  began  to 
shiver.  Every  muscle  in  his  body  trembled.  His 
teeth  clicked.  His  eyes  grew  wide,  and  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  move.  And  then,  like  a  hand 
throttling  him,  there  came  a  strange  stiffness  in  the 
back  of  his  neck,  and  his  breath  hissed  chokingly 


172  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

out  of  his  throat.  The  stiffness  passed  like  a  wave 
of  fire  through  his  body.  Where  his  muscles  had 
trembled  and  shivered  a  moment  before  they  now 
became  rigid  and  lifeless.  The  throttling  grip  of 
the  poison  at  the  base  of  his  brain  drew  his  head 
back  until  his  muzzle  was  pointed  straight  up  to 
the  sky.  Still  he  made  no  cry.  For  a  space  every 
nerve  in  his  body  was  at  the  point  of  death. 

Then  came  the  change.  As  though  a  string  had 
snapped,  the  horrible  grip  left  the  back  of  his  neck; 
the  stiffness  shot  out  of  his  body  in  a  flood  of  shiver- 
ing cold,  and  in  another  moment  he  was  twisting 
and  tearing  up  the  snow  in  mad  convulsions.  The 
spasm  lasted  for  perhaps  a  minute.  When  it  was 
over  Mild  was  panting.  Streams  of  saliva  dripped 
from  his  jaws  into  the  snow.  But  he  was  alive. 
Death  had  missed  him  by  a  hair,  and  after  a  little 
he  staggered  to  his  feet  and  continued  on  his  way  to 
the  windfall. 

Thereafter  Jacques  Le  Beau  might  place  a  million 
poison  capsules  in  his  way  and  he  would  not  touch 
them.  Never  again  would  he  steal  the  meat  from  a 
bait-peg. 

Two  days  later  Le  Beau  saw  where  Miki  had 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  173 

fought  his  fight  with  death  in  the  snow  and  his  heart 
was  black  with  rage  and  disappointment.  He  began 
to  follow  the  footprints  of  the  dog.  It  was  noon 
when  he  came  to  the  windfall  and  saw  the  beaten 
path  where  Miki  entered  it.  On  his  knees  he  peered 
into  the  cavernous  depths — and  saw  nothing.  But 
Miki,  lying  watchfully,  saw  the  man,  and  he  was  like 
the  black,  bearded  monster  who  had  almost  killed 
him  with  a  club  a  long  time  ago.  And  in  his  heart, 
too,  there  was  disappointment,  for  away  back  in  his 
memory  of  things  there  was  always  the  thought  of 
Challoner — the  master  he  had  lost;  and  it  was  never 
Challoner  whom  he  found  when  he  came  upon  the 
man  smell. 

Le  Beau  heard  his  growl,  and  the  man's  blood 
leapt  excitedly  as  he  rose  to  his  feet.  He  could  not 
go  in  after  the  wild  dog,  and  he  could  not  lure  him 
out.  But  there  was  another  way.  He  would 
drive  him  out  with  fire ! 

Deep  back  in  his  fortress,  Miki  heard  the  crunch 
of  Le  Beau's  feet  in  the  snow.  A  few  minutes  later 
he  saw  the  man-beast  again  peering  into  his  lair. 

"Bete,  bete,"  he  called  half  tauntingly,  and  again 
Miki  growled. 


174  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Jacques  was  satisfied.  The  windfall  was  not  more 
than  thirty  or  forty  feet  in  diameter,  and  about  it  the 
forest  was  open  and  clear  of  undergrowth.  It  would  be 
impossible  for  the  wild  dog  to  get  away  from  his  rifle. 

A  second  time  he  went  around  the  piled-up  mass 
of  fallen  timber.  On  three  sides  it  was  completely 
smothered  under  the  deep  snow.  Only  where  Miki's 
trail  entered  was  it  open. 

Getting  the  wind  behind  him  Le  Beau  made  his 
islcoo  of  birchbark  and  dry  wood  at  the  far  end  of  the 
windfall.  The  seasoned  logs  and  tree-tops  caught 
the  fire  like  tinder,  and  within  a  few  minutes  the 
flames  began  to  crackle  and  roar  in  a  manner  that 
made  Miki  wonder  what  was  happening.  For  a 
space  the  smoke  did  not  reach  him.  Le  Beau, 
watching,  with  his  rifle  in  his  bare  hands,  did  not 
for  an  instant  let  his  eyes  leave  the  spot  where  the 
wild  dog  must  come  out. 

Suddenly  a  pungent  whiff  of  smoke  filled  Miki's 
nostrils,  and  a  thin  white  cloud  crept  in  a  ghostly 
veil  between  him  and  the  opening.  A  crawling, 
snake-like  rope  of  it  began  to  pour  between  two  logs 
within  a  yard  of  him,  and  with  it  the  strange  roaring 
grew  nearer  and  more  menacing.  Then,  for  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  175 

first  time,  he  saw  lightning  flashes  of  yellow  flame 
through  the  tangled  debris  as  the  fire  ate  into  the 
heart  of  a  mass  of  pitch-filled  spruce.  In  another 
ten  seconds  the  flames  leapt  twenty  feet  into  the  air, 
and  Jacques  Le  Beau  stood  with  his  rifle  half  to  his 
shoulder,  ready  to  kill. 

Appalled  by  the  danger  that  was  upon  him,  Miki 
did  not  forget  Le  Beau.  With  an  instinct  sharpened 
to  fox-like  keenness  his  mind  leapt  instantly  to  the 
truth  of  the  matter.  It  was  the  man-beast  who  had 
set  this  new  enemy  upon  him;  and  out  there,  just 
beyond  the  opening,  the  man-beast  was  waiting. 
So,  like  the  fox,  he  did  what  Le  Beau  least  expected. 
He  crawled  back  swiftly  through  the  tangled  tops 
until  he  came  to  the  wall  of  snow  that  shut  the 
windfall  in,  and  through  this  he  burrowed  his  way 
almost  as  quickly  as  the  fox  himself  would  have  done 
it.  With  his  jaws  he  tore  through  the  half -inch 
outer  crust,  and  a  moment  later  stood  in  the  open, 
with  the  fire  between  him  and  Le  Beau. 

The  windfall  was  a  blazing  furnace,  and  suddenly 
Le  Beau  ran  back  a  dozen  steps  so  that  he  could 
see  on  the  farther  side.  A  hundred  yards  away  he 
saw  Miki  making  for  the  deeper  forest. 


176  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

It  was  a  clear  shot.  At  that  distance  Le  Beau 
would  have  staked  his  life  that  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  miss.  He  did  not  hurry.  One  shot,  and  it 
would  be  over.  He  raised  his  rifle,  and  in  that  in- 
stant a  wisp  of  smoke  came  like  the  lash  of  a  whip 
with  the  wind  and  caught  him  fairly  in  the  eyes,  and 
his  bullet  passed  three  inches  over  Miki's  head.  The 
whining  snarl  of  it  was  a  new  thing  to  Mild.  But 
he  recognized  the  thunder  of  the  gun — and  he  knew 
what  a  gun  could  do.  To  Le  Beau,  still  firing  at 
him  through  the  merciful  cloud  of  smoke,  he  was 
like  a  gray  streak  flashing  to  the  thick  timber. 
Three  times  more  Le  Beau  fired.  From  the  edge  of 
a  dense  clump  of  spruce  Miki  flung  back  a  defiant 
howl.  He  disappeared  as  Le  Beau's  last  shot 
shovelled  up  the  snow  at  his  heels. 

The  narrowness  of  his  escape  from  the  man-beast 
did  not  frighten  Miki  out  of  the  Jackson's  Knee 
country.  If  anything,  it  held  him  more  closely  to  it. 
It  gave  him  something  to  think  about  besides  Neewa 
and  his  aloneness.  As  the  fox  returns  to  peer  stealth- 
ily upon  the  deadfall  that  has  almost  caught  him, 
so  the  trapline  was  possessed  now  of  a  new  thrill  for 
Miki.  Heretofore  the  man-smell  had  held  for  him 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  177 

only  a  vague  significance;  now  it  marked  the  pres- 
ence of  a  real  and  concrete  danger.  And  he  wel- 
comed it.  His  wits  were  sharpened.  The  fascination 
of  the  trapline  was  deadlier  than  before. 

From  the  burned  windfall  he  made  a  wide  detour 
to  a  point  where  Le  Beau's  snowshoe  trail  entered 
the  edge  of  the  swamp;  and  here,  hidden  in  a  thick 
clump  of  bushes,  he  watched  him  as  he  travelled 
homeward  half  an  hour  later. 

From  that  day  he  hung  like  a  grim,  gray  ghost  to 
the  trapline.  Silent-footed,  cautious,  always  on  the 
alert  for  the  danger  which  threatened  him,  he 
haunted  Jacques  Le  Beau's  thoughts  and  footsteps 
with  the  elusive  persistence  of  a'  were-wolf — a 
loup-garou  of  the  Black  Forest.  Twice  in  the  next 
week  Le  Beau  caught  a  flash  of  him.  Three  times 
he  heard  him  howl.  And  twice  he  followed  his  trail 
until,  in  despair  and  exhaustion,  he  turned  back. 
Never  was  Miki  caught  unaware.  He  ate  no  more 
baits  in  the  trap-houses.  Even  when  Le  Beau 
lured  him  with  the  whole  carcass  of  a  rabbit  he 
would  not  touch  it,  nor  would  he  touch  a  rabbit 
frozen  dead  in  a  snare.  From  Le  Beau's  traps  he 
took  only  the  living  things,  chiefly  birds  and  squir- 


178  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

rels  and  the  big  web-footed  snowshoe  rabbits.  And 
because  a  mink  jumped  at  him  once,  and  tore  open 
his  nose,  he  destroyed  a  number  of  minks  so  utterly 
that  their  pelts  were  spoiled.  He  found  himself 
another  windfall,  but  instinct  taught  him  now  never 
to  go  to  it  directly,  but  to  approach  it,  and  leave  it, 
in  a  roundabout  way. 

Day  and  night  Le  Beau,  the  man-brute,  plotted 
against  him.  He  set  many  poison-baits.  He  killed 
a  doe,  and  scattered  strychnine  in  its  entrails.  He 
built  deadfalls,  and  baited  them  with  meat  soaked 
in  boiling  fat.  He  made  himself  a  "blind"  of  spruce 
and  cedar  boughs,  and  sat  for  long  hours,  watching 
with  his  rifle.  And  still  Miki  was  the  victor. 

One  day  Miki  found  a  huge  fisher-cat  in  one  of  the 
traps.  He  had  not  forgotten  the  battle  of  long  ago 
with  Oochak,  the  other  fisher-cat,  or  the  whipping 
he  had  received.  But  there  was  no  thought  of  ven- 
geance in  his  heart  on  the  early  evening  he  became 
acquainted  with  Oochak  the  Second.  Usually  he 
was  in  his  windfall  at  dusk,  but  this  afternoon  a 
great  and  devouring  loneliness  had  held  him  on  the 
trail.  The  spirit  of  Kuskayetum — the  hand  of  the 
mating-god — was  pressing  heavily  upon  him;  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  179 

consuming  desire  of  flesh  and  blood  for  the  compan- 
ionship of  other  flesh  and  blood.  It  burned  in  his 
veins  like  a  fever.  It  took  away  from  him  all  thought 
of  hunger  or  of  the  hunt.  In  his  soul  was  a  vast, 
unfilled  yearning. 

It  was  then  that  he  came  upon  Oochak.  Per- 
haps it  was  the  same  Oochak  of  months  ago.  If  so, 
he  had  grown  even  as  Miki  had  grown.  He  was 
splendid,  with  his  long  silken  fur  and  his  sleek  body, 
and  he  was  not  struggling,  but  sat  awaiting  his  fate 
without  excitement.  To  Miki  he  looked  warm  and 
soft  and  comfortable.  It  made  him  think  of  Neewa, 
and  the  hundred  and  one  nights  they  had  slept  to- 
gether. His  desire  leapt  out  to  Oochak.  He  whined 
softly  as  he  advanced.  He  would  make  friends. 
Even  with  Oochak,  his  old  enemy,  he  would  lie 
down  in  peace  and  happiness,  so  great  was  the  gnaw- 
ing emptiness  in  his  heart. 

Oochak  made  no  response,  nor  did  he  move,  but 
sat  furred  up  like  a  huge  soft  ball,  watching  Miki  as 
he  crept  nearer  on  his  belly.  Something  of  the  old 
puppishness  came  back  into  the  dog.  He  wriggled 
and  thumped  his  tail,  and  as  he  whined  again  he 
seemed  to  say. 


180  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

"Let's  forget  the  old  trouble,  Oochak.  Let's  be 
friends.  I've  got  a  fine  windfall — and  I'll  kill  you 
a  rabbit." 

And  still  Oochak  did  not  move  or  make  a  sound. 
At  last  Miki  could  almost  reach  out  with  his  fore- 
paws  and  touch  him.  He  dragged  himself  still 
nearer,  and  his  tail  thumped  harder. 

"And  I'll  get  you  out  of  the  trap,"  he  may  have 
been  saying.  "It's  the  man-beast's  trap — and  I 
hate  him." 

And  then,  so  suddenly  that  Miki  had  no  chance  to 
guard  himself,  Oochak  sprang  the  length  of  the  trap- 
chain  and  was  at  him.  With  teeth  and  razor-edged 
claws  he  tore  deep  gashes  in  Miki's  nose.  Even 
then  the  blood  of  battle  rose  slowly  in  him,  and  he 
might  have  retreated  had  not  Oochak's  teeth  got  a 
hold  in  his  shoulder.  With  a  roar  he  tried  to  shake 
himself  free,  but  Oochak  held  on.  Then  his  jaws 
snapped  at  the  back  of  the  fisher-cat's  neck.  When 
he  was  done  Oochak  was  dead. 

He  slunk  away,  but  in  him  there  was  no  more  the 
thrill  of  the  victor.  He  had  killed,  but  in  killing  he 
had  found  no  joy.  Upon  him — the  four-footed 
beast — had  fallen  at  last  the  oppression  of  the  thing 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  181 

that  drives  men  mad.  He  stood  in  the  heart  of  a 
vast  world,  and  for  him  that  world  was  empty. 
He  was  an  outcast.  His  heart  crying  out  for  com- 
radeship, he  found  that  all  things  feared  him  or 
hated  him.  He  was  a  pariah;  a  wanderer  without 
a  friend  or  a  home.  He  did  not  reason  these  things 
but  the  gloom  of  them  settled  upon  him  like  black 
night. 

He  did  not  return  to  his  windfall.  In  a  little  open 
he  sat  on  his  haunches,  listening  to  the  night  sounds, 
and  watching  the  stars  as  they  came  out.  There 
was  an  early  moon,  and  as  it  came  up  over  the  forest, 
a  great  throbbing  red  disc  that  seemed  filled  with  life, 
he  howled  mournfully  in  the  face  of  it.  He  wandered 
out  into  a  big  burn  a  little  later,  and  there  the  night 
was  like  day,  so  clear  that  his  shadow  followed  him 
and  all  other  things  about  him  cast  shadows.  And 
then,  all  at  once,  he  caught  in  the  night  wind  a  sound 
which  he  had  heard  many  times  before. 

It  came  from  far  away,  and  it  was  like  a  whisper 
at  first,  an  echo  of  strange  voices  riding  on  the  wind. 
A  hundred  times  he  had  heard  that  cry  of  the  wolves. 
Since  Maheegun,  the  she-wolf,  had  gashed  his 
shoulder  so  fiercely  away  back  in  the  days  of  his 


182  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

puppy-hood  he  had  evaded  the  path  of  that  cry. 
He  had  learned,  in  a  way,  to  hate  it.  But  he  could 
not  wipe  out  entirely  the  thrill  that  came  with  that 
call  of  the  blood.  And  to-night  it  rode  over  all  his 
fear  and  hatred.  Out  there  was  COMPANY.  Whence 
the  cry  came  the  wild  brethren  were  running  two  by 
two,  and  three  by  three,  and  there  was  COMRADESHIP. 
His  body  quivered.  An  answering  cry  rose  in  his 
throat,  dying  away  in  a  whine,  and  for  an  hour  after 
that  he  heard  no  more  of  the  wolf-cry  in  the  wind. 
The  pack  had  swung  to  the  west — so  far  away  that 
their  voices  were  lost.  And  it  passed — with  the 
moon  straight  over  them — close  to  the  shack  of  Pier- 
rot, the  half-breed. 

In  Pierrot's  cabin  was  a  white  man,  on  his  way  to 
Fort  O'  God.  He  saw  that  Pierrot  crossed  himself, 
and  muttered. 

"It  is  the  mad  pack,"  explained  Pierrot  then. 
"M'sieu,  they  have  been  Jceskwao  since  the  beginning 
of  the  new  moon.  In  them  are  the  spirits  of  devils." 

He  opened  the  cabin  door  a  little,  so  that  the  mad 
cry  of  the  beasts  came  to  them  plainly.  When  he 
closed  it  there  was  in  his  eyes  a  look  of  strange  fear. 

"Now  and   then   wolves  go  like  that — Jceskwao 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  183 

(stark  mad) — in  the  dead  of  winter,"  he  shuddered. 
"'Three  days  ago  there  were  twenty  of  them,  m'sieu, 
for  I  saw  them  with  my  own  eyes,  and  counted  their 
tracks  in  the  snow.  Since  then  they  been  murdered 
and  torn  into  strings  by  the  others  of  the  pack. 
Listen  to  them  ravin'!  Can  you  tell  me  why, 
m'sieu?  Can  you  tell  me  why  wolves  sometimes 
go  mad  in  the  heart  of  winter  when  there  is  no  heat 
or  rotten  meat  to  turn  them  sick?  Non?  But 
I  can  tell  you.  They  are  the  loups-garous;  in  their 
bodies  ride  the  spirits  of  devils,  and  there  they  will 
ride  until  the  bodies  die.  For  the  wolves  that  go  mad 
in  the  deep  snows  always  die,  m'sieu.  That  is  the 
strange  part  of  it.  They  die!" 

And  then  it  was,  swinging  eastward  from  the  cabin 
of  Pierrot,  that  the  mad  wolves  of  Jackson's  Knee 
came  into  the  country  of  the  big  swamp  wherein 
trees  bore  the  Double-X  blaze  of  Jacques  Le  Beau's 
axe.  There  were  fourteen  of  them  running  in  the 
moonlight.  What  it  is  that  now  and  then  drives  a 
wolf -pack  mad  in  the  dead  of  winter  no  man  yet  has 
wholly  learned.  Possibly  it  begins  with  a  "bad" 
wolf;  just  as  a  "bad"  sledge-dog,  nipping  and  biting 


184  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

his  fellows,  will  spread  his  distemper  among  them 
until  the  team  becomes  an  ugly,  quarrelsome  horde. 
Such  a  dog  the  wise  driver  kills — or  turns  loose. 

The  wolves  that  bore  down  upon  Le  Beau's 
country  were  red-eyed  and  thin.  Their  bodies 
were  covered  with  gashes,  and  the  mouths  of  some 
frothed  blood.  They  did  not  run  as  wolves  run  for 
meat.  They  were  a  sinister  and  suspicious  lot, 
with  a  sneaking  droop  to  their  haunches,  and  their 
cry  was  not  the  deep-throated  cry  of  the  hunt-pack 
but  a  ravening  clamour  that  seemed  to  have  no 
leadership  or  cause.  Scarcely  was  the  sound  of  their 
tongues  gone  beyond  the  hearing  of  Pierrot's  ears 
than  one  of  the  thin  gray  beasts  rubbed  against  the 
shoulder  of  another,  and  the  second  turned  with  the 
swiftness  of  a  snake,  like  the  "bad"  dog  of  the  traces, 
and  struck  his  fangs  deep  into  the  first  wolf's  flesh. 
Could  Pierrot  have  seen,  he  would  have  understood 
then  how  the  four  he  had  found  had  come  to  their 
end. 

Swift  as  the  snap  of  a  whip-lash  the  fight  between 
the  two  was  on.  The  other  twelve  of  the  pack  stop- 
ped. They  came  back,  circling  in  cautiously  and 
grimly  silent  about  their  fighting  comrades.  They 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  185 

ranged  themselves  in  a  ring,  as  men  gather  about 
a  fistic  battle;  and  there  they  waited,  their  jaws 
drooling,  their  fangs  clicking,  a  low  and  eager  whin- 
ing smothered  in  their  throats.  And  then  the  thing 
happened.  One  of  the  fighting  wolves  went  down. 
He  was  on  his  back — and  the  end  came.  The  twelve 
wolves  were  upon  him  as  one,  and,  like  those  Pier- 
rot had  seen,  he  was  torn  to  pieces,  and  his  flesh 
devoured.  After  that  the  thirteen  went  on  deeper 
into  Le  Beau's  country. 

Miki  heard  them  again,  after  that  hour's  interval 
of  silence.  Farther  and  farther  he  had  wandered 
from  the  forest.  He  had  crossed  the  "burn,"  and 
was  in  the  open  plain,  with  the  rough  ridges  cutting 
through  and  the  big  river  at  the  edge  of  it.  It  was 
not  so  gloomy  out  here,  and  his  loneliness  weighed 
upon  him  less  heavily  than  in  the  deep  timber. 

And  across  this  plain  came  the  voice  of  the  wolves. 

He  did  not  move  away  from  it  to-night.  He 
waited,  silhouetted  against  the  vivid  starlight  at  the 
crest  of  a  rocky  knoll,  and  the  top  of  this  knoll  was 
so  small  that  another  could  not  have  stood  beside 
him  without  their  shoulders  touching.  On  all  sides 
of  him  the  plain  swept  away  in  the  white  light 


186  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

of  the  stars  and  moon;  never  had  the  desire  to  re- 
spond to  the  wild  brethren  urged  itself  upon  him 
more  fiercely  than  now.  He  flung  back  his  head, 
until  his  black-tipped  muzzle  pointed  up  to  the  stars, 
and  the  voice  rolled  out  of  his  throat.  But  it  was 
only  half  a  howl.  Even  then,  oppressed  by  his  great 
loneliness,  there  gripped  him  that  something  instinc- 
tive which  warned  him  against  betrayal.  After 
that  he  remained  quiet,  and  as  the  wolves  drew 
nearer  his  body  grew  tense,  his  muscles  hardened, 
and  in  his  throat  there  was  the  low  whispering  of  a 
snarl  instead  of  a  howl.  He  sensed  danger.  He  had 
caught,  in  the  voice  of  the  wolves,  the  ravening  note 
that  had  made  Pierrot  cross  himself  and  mutter  of 
the  loups-garous,  and  he  crouched  down  on  his  belly 
at  the  top  of  the  rocky  mound. 

Then  he  saw  them.  They  were  sweeping  like 
dark  and  swiftly  moving  shadows  between  him  and 
the  forest.  Suddenly  they  stopped,  and  for  a  few 
moments  no  sound  came  from  them  as  they  packed 
themselves  closely  on  the  scent  of  his  fresh  trail  in  the 
snow.  And  then  they  surged  in  his  direction;  this  time 
there  was  a  still  fiercer  madness  in  the  wild  cry  that 
rose  from  their  throats.  In  a  dozen  seconds  they  were 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  187 

at  the  mound.  They  swept  around  it  and  past  it, 
all  save  one — a  huge  gray  brute  who  shot  up  the 
hillock  straight  at  the  prey  the  others  had  not  yet 
seen.  There  was  a  snarl  in  Miki's  throat  as  he 
came.  Once  more  he  was  facing  the  thrill  of  a  great 
fight.  Once  more  the  blood  ran  suddenly  hot  in  his 
veins,  and  fear  was  driven  from  him  as  the  wind 
drives  smoke  from  a  fire.  If  Neewa  were  only  there 
now,  to  fend  at  his  back  while  he  fought  in  front! 
He  stood  up  on  his  feet.  He  met  the  up-rushing 
pack-brute  head  to  head.  Their  jaws  clashed,  and 
the  wild  wolf  found  jaws  at  last  that  crunched 
through  his  own  as  if  they  had  been  whelp's  bone,  and 
lie  rolled  and  twisted  back  to  the  plain  in  a  dying 
agony.  But  not  until  another  gray  form  had  come 
to  fill  his  place.  Into  the  throat  of  this  second  Miki 
drove  his  fangs  as  the  wolf  came  over  the  crest.  It 
was  the  slashing,  sabre-like  stroke  of  the  north-dog, 
and  the  throat  of  the  wolf  was  torn  open  and  the 
blood  poured  out  as  if  emptied  by  the  blade  of  a 
knife.  Down  he  plunged  to  join  the  first,  and  in 
that  instant  the  pack  swept  up  and  over  Miki,  and 
he  was  smothered  under  the  mass  of  their  bodies. 
Had  two  or  three  attacked  him  at  once  he  would 


188  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

have  died  as  quickly  as  the  first  two  of  his  enemies 
had  come  to  their  end.  Numbers  saved  him  in  the 
first  rush.  On  the  level  of  the  plain  he  would  have 
been  torn  into  pieces  like  a  bit  of  cloth,  but  on  the 
space  at  the  top  of  the  kopje,  no  larger  than  the  top 
of  a  table,  he  was  lost  for  a  few  seconds  under  the 
snarling  and  rending  horde  of  his  enemies.  Fangs 
intended  for  him  sank  into  other  wolf -flesh;  the 
madness  of  the  pack  became  a  blind  rage,  and  the 
assault  upon  Miki  turned  into  a  slaughter  of  the 
wolves  themselves.  On  his  back,  held  down  by  the 
weight  of  bodies,  Miki  drove  his  fangs  again  and 
again  into  flesh.  A  pair  of  jaws  seized  him  in  the 
groin,  and  a  shock  of  agony  swept  through  him. 
It  was  a  death-grip,  sinking  steadily  into  his  vitals. 
Just  in  time  another  pair  of  jaws  seized  the  wolf  who 
held  him,  and  the  hold  in  his  groin  gave  way.  In 
that  moment  Miki  felt  himself  plunging  down  the 
steep  side  of  the  knoll,  and  after  him  came  a  half  of 
what  was  left  alive  of  the  pack. 

The  fighting  devils  in  Miki's  brain  gave  way  all 
at  once  to  that  cunning  of  the  fox  which  had  served 
him  even  more  than  claw  and  fang  in  times  of  great 
danger.  Scarcely  had  he  reached  the  plain  before 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  189 

he  was  on  his  feet,  and  no  sooner  had  he  touched  his 
feet  than  he  was  off  like  the  wind  in  direction  of  the 
river.  He  had  gained  a  fifty-yard  start  before  the 
first  of  the  wolves  discovered  his  flight.  There  were 
only  eight  that  followed  him  now.  Of  the  thirteen 
mad  beasts  five  were  dead  or  dying  at  the  foot  of  the 
hillock.  Of  these  Miki  had  slain  two.  The  others 
had  fallen  at  the  fangs  of  their  own  brethren. 

Half  a  mile  away  were  the  steep  cliffs  of  the  river, 
and  at  the  edge  of  these  cliffs  was  a  great  cairn  of 
rocks  in  which  for  one  night  Miki  had  sought  shelter. 
He  had  not  forgotten  the  tunnel  into  the  tumbled 
mass  of  rock  debris,  nor  how  easily  it  could  be  de- 
fended from  within.  Once  in  that  tunnel  he  would 
turn  in  the  door  of  it  and  slaughter  his  enemies  one 
by  one,  for  only  one  by  one  could  they  attack  him. 
But  he  had  not  reckoned  with  that  huge  gray  form 
behind  him  that  might  have  been  named  Lightning, 
the  fiercest  and  swiftest  of  all  the  mad  wolves  of  the 
pack.  He  sped  ahead  of  his  slower-footed  compan- 
ions like  a  streak  of  light,  and  Miki  had  made  but 
half  the  distance  to  the  cairn  when  he  heard  the  pant- 
ing breath  of  Lightning  behind  him.  Even  Hela, 
his  father,  could  not  have  run  more  swiftly  than 


190  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Miki,  but  great  as  was  Miki's  speed,  Lightning  ran 
more  swiftly.  Two  thirds  of  the  distance  to  the  cliff 
and  the  huge  wolf's  muzzle  was  at  Miki's  flank. 
With  a  burst  of  speed  Miki  gained  a  little.  Then 
steadily  Lightning  drew  abreast  of  him,  a  grim  and 
merciless  shadow  of  doom. 

A  hundred  yards  farther  on  and  a  little  to  the  right 
was  the  cairn.  But  Miki  could  not  run  to  the  right 
without  turning  into  Lightning's  jaws,  and  he  realized 
now  that  if  he  reached  the  cairn  his  enemy  would  be 
upon  him  before  he  could  dive  into  the  tunnel  and 
face  about.  To  stop  and  fight  would  be  death,  for 
behind  he  could  hear  the  other  wolves.  Ten  seconds 
more  and  the  chasm  of  the  river  yawned  ahead  of 
them. 

At  its  very  brink  Miki  swung  and  struck  at 
Lightning.  He  sensed  death  now,  and  in  the  face 
of  death  all  his  hatred  turned  upon  the  one  beast 
that  had  run  at  his  side.  In  an  instant  they  were 
down.  Two  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and 
Miki's  jaws  were  at  Lightning's  throat  when  the 
pack  rushed  upon  them.  They  were  swept  onward. 
The  earth  flew  out  from  under  their  feet,  and  they 
were  in  space.  Grimly  Miki  held  to  the  throat  of  his 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  191 

foe.  Over  and  over  they  twisted  in  mid-air,  and 
then  came  a  terrific  shock.  Lightning  was  under. 
Yet  so  great  was  the  shock,  that,  even  though  the 
wolf's  huge  body  was  under  him  like  a  cushion,  Miki 
was  stunned  and  dazed.  A  minute  passed  before 
he  staggered  to  his  feet.  Lightning  lay  still,  the 
life  smashed  out  of  him.  A  little  beyond  him  lay 
the  bodies  of  two  other  wolves  that  in  their  wild  rush 
had  swept  over  the  cliff. 

Miki  looked  up.  Between  him  and  the  stars  he 
could  see  the  top  of  the  cliff,  a  vast  distance  above 
him.  One  after  the  other  he  smelled  at  the  bodies 
of  the  three  dead  wolves.  Then  he  limped  slowly 
along  the  base  of  the  cliff  until  he  came  to  a  fissure 
between  two  huge  rocks.  Into  this  he  crept  and 
lay  down,  licking  his  wounds.  After  all  there  were 
worse  things  in  the  world  than  Le  Beau's  trapline. 
Perhaps  there  were  even  worse  things  than  men. 

After  a  time  he  stretched  his  great  head  out  be- 
tween his  fore-paws,  and  slowly  the  starlight  grew 
dimmer,  and  the  snow  less  white,  and  he  slept. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

IN  A  twist  of  Three  Jackpine  River,  buried 
in  the  deep  of  the  forest  between  the  Sham- 
attawa  country  and  Hudson  Bay,  was  the 
cabin  in  which  lived  Jacques  Le  Beau,  the  trapper. 
There  was  not  another  man  in  all  that  wilderness 
who  was  the  equal  of  Le  Beau  in  wickedness — unless 
it  was  Durant,  who  hunted  foxes  a  hundred  miles 
north,  and  who  was  Jacques's  rival  in  several  things. 
A  giant  in  size,  with  a  heavy,  sullen  face  and  eyes 
which  seemed  but  half-hidden  greenish  loopholes 
for  the  pitiless  soul  within  him — if  he  had  a  soul  at 
all — Le  Beau  was  a  "throw-back"  of  the  worst  sort. 
In  their  shacks  and  teepees  the  Indians  whispered 
softly  that  all  the  devils  of  his  forebears  had  gathered 
in  him. 

It  was  a  grim  kind  of  fate  that  had  given  to  Le 
Beau  a  wife.  Had  she  been  a  witch,  an  evil-doer 
and  an  evil-thinker  like  himself,  the  thing  would  not 
have  been  such  an  abortion  of  what  should  have 

192 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  193 

been.  But  she  was  not  that.  Sweet-faced,  with 
something  of  unusual  beauty  still  in  her  pale  cheeks 
and  starving  eyes — trembling  at  his  approach  and  a 
slave  in  his  presence — she  was,  like  his  dogs,  the 
property  of  The  Brute.  And  the  woman  had  a  baby, 
had  already  died;  and  it  was  the  thought  that 
this  one  might  die,  as  the  other  had  died,  that 
brought  at  times  the  new  flash  of  fire  into  her  dark 
eyes. 

"Le  Ion  Dieu — I  pray  to  the  Blessed  Angels — I 
swear  you  shall  live!"  she  would  cry  to  it  at  times, 
hugging  it  close  to  her  breast.  And  it  was  at  these 
times  that  the  fire  came  into  her  eyes,  and  her  pale 
cheeks  flushed  with  a  smouldering  bit  of  the  flame 
that  had  once  been  her  beauty.  "Some  day — 
some  day ' 

But  she  never  finished,  even  to  the  child,  what  was 
in  her  mind. 

Sometimes  her  dreams  were  filled  with  visions. 
The  world  was  still  young,  and  she  was  not  old. 
She  was  thinking  of  that  as  she  stood  before  the 
cracked  bit  of  mirror  in  the  cabin,  brushing  out  her 
hair,  that  was  black  and  shining  and  so  long  that  it 
fell  to  her  hips.  Of  her  beauty  her  hair  had  re- 


194  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

mained.  It  was  defiant  of  The  Brute.  And  deep 
back  in  her  eyes,  and  in  her  face,  there  were  still  the 
living,  hidden  traces  of  her  girlhood  heritage  ready 
to  bloom  again  if  Fate,  mending  its  error  at  last, 
would  only  take  away  forever  the  crushing  presence 
of  the  Master.  She  stood  a  little  longer  before  the 
bit  of  glass  when  she  heard  the  crunching  of  foot- 
steps in  the  snow  outside. 

Swiftly  what  had  been  in  her  face  was  gone.  Le 
Beau  had  been  away  on  his  trapline  since  yesterday, 
and  his  return  filled  her  with  the  old  dread.  Twice 
he  had  caught  her  before  the  mirror  and  had  called 
her  vile  names  for  wasting  her  time  in  admiring  her- 
self when  she  might  have  been  scraping  the  fat  from 
his  pelts.  The  second  time  he  had  sent  her  reeling 
back  against  the  wall,  and  had  broken  the  mirror 
until  the  bit  she  treasured  now  was  not  much  larger 
than  her  two  slim  hands.  She  would  not  be  caught 
again.  She  ran  with  the  glass  to  the  place  where 
she  kept  it  in  hiding,  and  then  quickly  she  wove 
the  heavy  strands  of  her  hair  into  a  braid.  The 
strange,  dead  look  of  fear  and  foreboding  closed 
like  a  veil  over  the  secrets  her  eyes  had  disclosed 
to  herself.  She  turned,  as  she  always  turned  in  her 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  195 

woman's  hope  and  yearning,  to  greet  him  when  he 
entered. 

The  Brute  entered,  a  dark  and  surly  monster. 
He  was  in  a  wicked  humour.  His  freshly  caught 
furs  he  flung  to  the  floor.  He  pointed  to  them,  and 
his  eyes  were  narrowed  to  menacing  slits  as  they  fell 
upon  her. 

"He  was  there  again — that  devil!"  he  growled. 
"See,  he  has  spoiled  the  fisher,  and  he  has  cleaned 
out  my  baits  and  knocked  down  the  trap-houses. 
Par  les  mille  comes  du  diable,  but  I  will  kill  him! 
I  have  sworn  to  cut  him  into  bits  with  a  knife  when 
I  catch  him — and  catch  him  I  will,  to-morrow.  See 
to  it  there — the  skins — when  you  have  got  me  some- 
thing to  eat.  Mend  the  fisher  where  he  is  torn  in 
two,  and  cover  the  seam  well  with  fat  so  that  the 
agent  over  at  the  post  will  not  discover  it  is  bad. 
Tonnerre  de  Dieu! — that  brat!  Why  do  you  always 
keep  his  squalling  until  I  come  in?  Answer  me, 
Bete!  " 

Such  was  his  greeting.  He  flung  his  snowshoes 
into  a  corner,  stamped  the  snow  off  his  feet,  and  got 
himself  a  fresh  plug  of  black  tobacco  from  a  shelf 
over  the  stove.  Then  he  went  out  again,  leaving  the 


196  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

woman  with  a  cold  tremble  in  her  heart  and  the  wan 
desolation  of  hopelessness  in  her  face  as  she  set 
about  getting  him  food. 

From  the  cabin  Le  Beau  went  to  his  dog-pit,  a 
corral  of  saplings  with  a  shelter-shack  in  the  centre 
of  it.  It  was  The  Brute's  boast  that  he  had  the 
fiercest  pack  of  sledge-dogs  between  Hudson  Bay  and 
the  Athabasca.  It  was  his  chief  quarrel  with  Durant, 
his  rival  farther  north;  and  his  ambition  was  to 
breed  a  pup  that  would  kill  the  fighting  husky  which 
Durant  brought  down  to  the  Post  with  him  each 
winter  at  New  Year.  This  season  he  had  chosen 
Netah  ("The  Killer")  for  the  big  fight  at  God's 
Lake.  On  the  day  he  would  gamble  his  money  and 
his  reputation  against  Durant's,  his  dog  would  be 
just  one  month  under  two  years  of  age.  It  was 
Netah  he  called  from  out  of  the  pack  now. 

The  dog  slunk  to  him  with  a  low  growl  in  his  throat, 
and  for  the  first  time  something  like  joy  shone  in 
Le  Beau's  face.  He  loved  to  hear  that  growl.  He 
loved  to  see  the  red  and  treacherous  glow  in  Netah's 
eyes,  and  hear  the  menacing  click  of  his  jaws. 
Whatever  of  nobility  might  have  been  in  Netah's 
blood  had  been  clubbed  out  by  the  man.  They 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  197 

were  alike,  in  that  their  souls  were  dead.  And 
Netah,  for  a  dog,  was  a  devil.  For  that  reason  Le 
Beau  had  chosen  him  to  fight  the  big  fight. 

Le  Beau  looked  down  at  him,  and  drew  a  deep 
breath  of  satisfaction. 

"  Ow!  but  you  are  looking  fine,  Netah,"  he  exulted. 
"I  can  almost  see  running  blood  in  those  devil-eyes 
of  yours ;  oui — red  blood  that  smells  and  runs,  as  the 
blood  of  Durant's  poos  shall  run  when  you  sink  those 
teeth  in  its  jugular.  And  to-morrow  we  are  going 
to  give  you  the  test — such  a  beautiful  test! — with 
the  wild  dog  that  is  robbing  my  traps  and  tearing 
my  fishers  into  bits.  For  I  will  catch  him,  and  you 
shall  fight  him  until  he  is  almost  dead;  and  then  I 
shall  cut  his  heart  out  alive,  as  I  have  promised, 
and  you  will  eat  it  while  it  is  still  beating,  so  that 
there  will  be  no  excuse  for  your  losing  to  that  poos 
which  M'sieu  Durant  will  bring  down.  Comprenez? 
It  will  be  a  beautiful  test — to-morrow.  And  if  you 
fail  I  will  kill  you.  Oui;  if  you  so  much  as  let  a 
whimper  out  of  you,  I  will  kill  you — dead." 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

THAT  same  night,  ten   miles  to  the   west, 
Miki  slept  under  a  windfall  of  logs  and  tree- 
tops  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from  Le 
Beau's  trapline. 

In  the  early  dawn,  when  Le  Beau  left  his  cabin, 
accompanied  by  Netah,  The  Killer,  Miki  came  out 
from  under  his  windfall  after  a  night  of  troublous 
dreams.  He  had  dreamed  of  those  first  weeks  after 
he  had  lost  his  master,  when  Neewa  was  always  at  his 
side;  and  the  visions  that  had  come  to  him  filled 
him  with  an  uneasiness  and  a  loneliness  that  made 
him  whine  as  he  stood  watching  the  dark  shadows 
fading  away  before  the  coming  of  day.  Could  Le 
Beau  have  seen  him  there,  as  the  first  of  the  cold  sun 
struck  upon  him,  the  words  which  he  had  repeated 
over  and  over  to  The  Killer  would  have  stuck  in  his 
throat.  For  at  eleven  months  of  age  Miki  was  a 
young  giant  of  his  breed.  He  weighed  sixty  pounds, 
and  none  of  that  sixty  was  fat.  His  body  was  as 

198 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  199 

slim  and  as  lean  as  a  wolf's.  His  chest  was  massive, 
and  over  it  the  muscles  rolled  like  babiche  cord 
when  he  moved.  His  legs  were  like  the  legs  of  Hela, 
the  big  Mackenzie  hound  who  was  his  father;  and 
with  his  jaws  he  could  crack  a  caribou  bone  as  Le 
Beau  might  have  cracked  it  with  a  stone.  For 
eight  of  the  eleven  months  of  his  life  the  wilderness 
had  been  his  master;  it  had  tempered  him  to  the 
hardness  of  living  steel;  it  had  wrought  him  without 
abeyance  to  age  in  the  mould  of  its  pitiless  schooling 
—had  taught  him  to  fight  for  his  life,  to  kill  that  he 
might  live,  and  to  use  his  brain  before  he  used  his 
jaws.  He  was  as  powerful  as  Netah,  The  Killer, 
who  was  twice  his  age,  and  with  his  strength  he 
possessed  a  cunning  and  a  quickness  which  The 
Killer  would  never  know.  Thus  had  the  raw  wilder- 
ness prepared  him  for  this  day. 

As  the  sun  fired  up  the  forest  with  a  cold  flame 
Miki  set  off  in  direction  of  Le  Beau's  trapline.  He 
came  to  where  Le  Beau  had  passed  yesterday  and 
sniffed  suspiciously  of  the  man-smell  that  was 
still  strong  in  the  snowshoe  tracks.  He  had  become 
accustomed  to  this  smell,  but  he  had  not  lost  his 
suspicion  of  it.  It  was  repugnant  to  him,  even  as  it 


200  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

fascinated  him.  It  filled  him  with  an  inexplicable 
fear,  and  yet  he  found  himself  powerless  to  run  away 
from  it.  Three  times  in  the  last  ten  days  he  had 
seen  the  man-brute  himself.  Once  he  had  been 
hiding  within  a  dozen  yards  of  Le  Beau  when  he 
passed. 

This  morning  he  headed  straight  for  the  swamp 
through  which  Le  Beau's  traps  were  set.  There 
the  rabbits  were  thickest,  and  it  was  in  the  swamp 
that  they  most  frequently  got  in  Jacques's  Jcekeks — 
the  little  houses  he  built  of  sticks  and  cedar  boughs 
to  keep  the  snow  off  his  baits.  They  were  so  num- 
erous that  they  were  a  pest,  and  each  time  that  Le 
Beau  made  his  trip  over  the  line  he  found  at  least 
two  out  of  every  three  traps  sprung  by  them,  and 
therefore  made  useless  for  the  catching  of  fur.  But 
where  there  were  many  rabbits  there  were  also 
fishers  and  lynx,  and  in  spite  of  the  rage  which  the 
plague  of  rabbits  sent  him  into,  Le  Beau  continued 
to  set  his  traps  there.  And  now,  in  addition  to  the 
rabbits,  he  had  the  wild  dog  to  contend  with. 

His  heart  was  fired  by  a  vengeful  anticipation  as 
he  hurried  on  through  the  glow  of  the  early  sun, 
with  The  Killer  at  his  heels,  led  by  a  babiche  thong. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  201 

Miki  was  nosing  about  the  first  trap-house  as  Netah 
and  Le  Beau  entered  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  three 
miles  to  the  east. 

It  was  in  this  keJcek  that  Miki  had  killed  the  fisher- 
cat  the  previous  morning.  It  was  empty  now. 
Even  the  bait-peg  was  gone,  and  there  was  no  sign 
of  a  trap.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  on  he  came  to 
a  second  trap-house,  and  this  also  was  empty.  He 
was  a  bit  puzzled.  And  then  he  went  on  to  the  third 
house.  He  stood  for  several  minutes,  sniffing  the 
air  still  more  suspiciously,  before  he  drew  close  to  it. 
The  man-tracks  were  thicker  here.  The  snow  was 
beaten  down  with  them,  and  the  scent  of  Le  Beau 
was  so  strong  in  the  air  that  for  a  space  Miki  be- 
lieved he  was  near.  Then  he  advanced  so  that  he 
got  a  look  into  the  door  of  the  trap-house.  Squat- 
ted there,  staring  at  him  with  big  round  eyes,  was  a 
huge  snowshoe  rabbit.  A  premonition  of  danger 
held  Miki  back.  It  was  something  in  the  attitude 
of  Wapoos,  the  old  rabbit.  He  was  not  like  the 
others  he  had  caught  along  Le  Beau's  line.  He 
was  not  struggling  in  a  trap;  he  was  not  stretched  out, 
half  frozen,  and  he  was  not  dangling  at  the  end  of  a 
snare.  He  was  all  furred  up  into  a  warm  and  com- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

fortable  looking  ball.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Le  Beau 
had  caught  him  with  his  hands  in  a  hollow  log,  and 
had  tied  him  to  the  bait  peg  with  a  piece  of  buck- 
skin string;  and  after  that,  just  out  of  Wapoos's 
reach,  he  had  set  a  nest  of  traps  and  covered  them 
with  snow. 

Nearer  and  nearer  to  this  menace  drew  Miki, 
in  spite  of  the  unaccountable  impulse  that  warned 
him  to  keep  back.  Wapoos,  fascinated  by  his  slow 
and  deadly  advance,  made  no  movement,  but  sat  as 
if  frozen  into  stone.  Then  Miki  was  at  him.  His 
powerful  jaws  closed  with  a  crunch.  In  the  same 
instant  there  came  the  angry  snap  of  steel  and  a 
fisher-trap  closed  on  one  of  his  hind  feet.  With 
a  snarl  he  dropped  Wapoos  and  turned  upon  it. 
Snap — snap — snap  went  three  more  of  Jacques's 
nest  of  traps.  Two  of  them  missed.  The  third 
caught  him  by  a  front  paw.  As  he  had  caught 
Wapoos,  and  as  he  had  killed  the  fisher-cat,  so  now 
he  seized  this  new  and  savage  enemy  between  his 
jaws.  His  fangs  crunched  on  the  cold  steel;  he  lit- 
erally tore  it  from  his  paw  so  that  blood  streamed 
forth  and  strained  the  snow  red.  Madly  he  twisted 
himself  to  get  at  his  hind  foot.  On  this  foot  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  203 

fisher-trap  had  secured  a  hold  that  was  unbreakable. 
He  ground  it  between  his  jaws  until  the  blood  ran 
from  his  mouth.  He  was  fighting  it  when  Le  Beau 
came  out  from  behind  a  clump  of  spruce  twenty 
yards  away  with  The  Killer  at  his  heels. 

The  Brute  stopped.  He  was  panting,  and  his 
eyes  were  aflame.  Two  hundred  yards  away  he  had 
heard  the  clinking  of  the  trap-chain. 

"Owl  he  is  there,"  he  gasped,  tightening  his  hold 
on  The  Killer's  lead  thong.  "He  is  there,  Netah, 
you  Red  Eye!  That  is  the  robber  devil  you  are  to 
kill — almost.  I  will  unfasten  you,  and  then — 
Goto!" 

Miki,  no  longer  fighting  the  trap,  was  eyeing  them 
as  they  advanced.  In  this  moment  of  peril  he  felt  no 
fear  of  the  man.  In  his  veins  the  hot  blood  raged 
with  a  killing  madness.  The  truth  leapt  upon  him 
in  a  flash  of  instinctive  awakening.  These  two  were 
his  enemies  instead  of  the  thing  on  his  foot — the 
man-beast,  and  Netah,  The  Killer.  He  remembered 
—as  if  it  were  yesterday.  This  was  not  the  first 
time  he  had  seen  a  man  with  a  club  in  his  hand.  And 
Le  Beau  held  a  club.  But  he  was  not  afraid.  His 
steady  eyes  watched  Netah.  Unleashed  by  his 


204  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

master,  The  Killer  stood  on  stiff  legs  a  dozen  feet 
away,  the  wiry  crest  along  his  spine  erect,  his  muscles 
tense. 

Miki  heard  the  man-beast's  voice. 

"  Go  to,  you  devil !    Go  to! " 

Miki  waited,  without  the  quiver  of  a  muscle. 
Thus  much  he  had  learned  of  his  hard  lessons  in  the 
wilderness — to  wait,  and  watch,  and  use  his  cunning. 
He  was  flat  on  his  belly,  his  nose  between  his  fore- 
paws.  His  lips  were  drawn  back  a  little,  just  a 
little;  but  he  made  no  sound,  and  his  eyes  were  as 
steady  as  two  points  of  flame.  Le  Beau  stared. 
He  felt  suddenly  a  new  thrill,  and  it  was  not  the 
thrill  of  his  desire  for  vengeance.  Never  had  he 
seen  a  lynx  or  a  fox  or  a  wolf  in  a  trap  like  that. 
Never  had  he  seen  a  dog  with  eyes  like  the  eyes 
that  were  on  Netah.  For  a  moment  he  held  his 
breath. 

Foot  by  foot,  and  then  almost  inch  by  inch,  The 
Killer  crept  in.  Ten  feet,  eight,  six — and  all  that 
time  Miki  made  no  move,  never  winked  an  eye. 
With  a  snarl  like  that  of  a  tiger,  Netah  came  at  him. 

What  happened  then  was  the  most  marvellous 
thing  that  Jacques  Le  Beau  had  ever  seen.  So 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  205 

swiftly  that  his  eyes  could  scarcely  follow  the  move- 
ment, Miki  had  passed  like  a  flash  under  the  belly  of 
Netah,  and  turning  then  at  the  end  of  his  trap  chain 
he  was  at  The  Killer's  throat  before  Le  Beau  could 
have  counted  ten.  They  were  down,  and  The  Brute 
gripped  the  club  in  his  hand  and  stared  like  one  fas- 
cinated. He  heard  the  grinding  crunch  of  jaws, 
and  he  knew  they  were  the  Wild  Dog's  jaws;  he 
heard  a  snarl  choking  slowly  into  a  wheezing  sob  of 
agony,  and  he  knew  that  the  sound  came  from  The 
Killer.  The  blood  rose  into  his  face.  The  red  fire 
in  his  eyes  grew  livid — a  blaze  of  exultation,  of 
triumph. 

"  Tonnerre  de  Dieu!  he  is  choking  the  life  out  of 
Netah!"  he  gasped.  "Non,  I  have  never  seen  a  dog 
like  that.  I  will  keep  him  alive;  and  he  shall  fight 
Durant's  poos  over  at  Post  Fort  O'  God!  By  the 
belly  of  Saint  Gris,  I  say 

The  Killer  was  as  good  as  dead  if  left  another 
minute.  With  upraised  club  Le  Beau  advanced. 
As  he  sank  his  fangs  deeper  into  Netah's  throat  Miki 
saw  the  new  danger  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 
He  loosed  his  jaws  and  swung  himself  free  of  The 
Killer  as  the  club  descended.  He  only  partly  evaded 


206  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

the  smashing  blow,  which  caught  him  on  the  shoulder 
and  knocked  him  down.  Quick  as  a  flash  he  was  on 
his  feet  and  had  lunged  at  Le  Beau.  The  French- 
man was  a  master  with  the  club.  All  his  life  he 
had  used  it,  and  he  brought  it  around  in  a  sudden 
side-swing  that  landed  with  terrific  force  against 
Miki's  head.  The  blood  spurted  from  his  mouth 
and  nostrils.  He  was  dazed  and  half  blinded.  He 
leapt  again,  and  the  club  caught  him  once  more. 
He  heard  Le  Beau's  ferocious  cry  of  joy.  A  third,  a 
fourth*  and  a  fifth  time  he  went  down  under  the  club, 
and  Le  Beau  no  longer  laughed,  but  swung  his  weap- 
on with  a  look  that  was  half  fear  in  his  eyes.  The 
sixth  time  the  club  missed,  and  Miki's  jaws  closed 
against  The  Brute's  chest,  ripping  away  the  thick 
coat  and  shirt  as  if  they  had  been  of  paper,  and 
leaving  on  Le  Beau's  skin  a  bleeding  gash.  Ten 
inches  more — a  little  better  vision  in  his  blood- 
dimmed  eyes — and  he  would  have  reached  the  man's 
throat.  A  great  cry  rose  out  of  Le  Beau.  For  an 
instant  he  felt  the  appalling  nearness  of  death. 

"Netah!  Netah!"  he  cried,  and  swung  the  club 
wildly. 

Netah  did  not  respond.    It  may  be  that  in  this 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  207 

moment  he  sensed  the  fact  that  it  was  his  master 
who  had  made  him  into  a  monster.  About  him 
was  the  wilderness,  opening  its  doors  of  freedom. 
When  Le  Beau  called  again  The  Killer  was  slinking 
away,  dripping  blood  as  he  went — and  this  was  the 
last  that  Le  Beau  saw  of  him.  Probably  he  joined 
the  wolves,  for  The  Killer  was  a  quarter-strain 
wild. 

Le  Beau  got  no  more  than  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he 
disappeared.  His  club-arm  shot  out  again,  a  clean 
miss;  and  this  time  it  was  pure  chance  that  saved  him. 
The  trap-chain  caught,  and  Miki  fell  back  when  his 
hot  breath  was  almost  at  The  Brute's  jugular.  He  fell 
upon  his  side.  Before  he  could  recover  himself  the 
club  was  pounding  his  head  into  the  snow.  The 
world  grew  black.  He  no  longer  had  the  power  to 
move.  Lying  as  if  dead  he  still  heard  over  him  the 
panting,  exultant  voice  of  the  man-beast.  For  Le 
Beau,  black  though  his  heart  was,  could  not  keep 
back  a  prayerful  cry  of  thankfulness  that  he  was 
victor — and  had  missed  death,  though  by  a  space 
no  wider  than  the  link  of  a  chain. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

NANETTE,  the  woman,  saw  Jacques  come 
out  of  the  edge  of  the  timber  late  in  the 
afternoon,  dragging  something  on  the  snow 
behind  him.  In  her  heart,  ever  since  her  husband  had 
begun  to  talk  about  him,  she  had  kept  secret  to  her- 
self a  pity  for  the  wild  dog.  Long  before  the  last 
baby  had  come  she  had  loved  a  dog.  It  was  this 
dog  that  had  given  her  the  only  real  affection  she 
had  known  in  the  company  of  The  Brute,  and  with 
barbarous  cruelty  Le  Beau  had  driven  it  from  her. 
Nanette  herself  had  encouraged  it  to  seek  freedom 
in  the  wilderness,  as  Netah  had  at  last  sought  his. 
Therefore  she  had  prayed  that  the  wild  dog  of  the 
trapline  might  escape. 

As  Le  Beau  came  nearer  she  saw  that  what  he 
drew  after  him  upon  the  snow  was  a  sledge-drag 
made  of  four  lengths  of  sapling,  and  when,  a  moment 
later,  she  looked  down  at  its  burden,  she  gave  a  little 
cry  of  horror. 

208 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  209 

Miki's  four  feet  were  tied  so  firmly  to  the  pieces  of 
sapling  that  he  could  not  move.  A  cord  about  his 
neck  was  fastened  to  one  of  the  crossbars,  and  over 
his  jaws  Le  Beau  had  improvised  a  muzzle  of  un- 
breakable babiche  thong.  He  had  done  all  this 
before  Miki  regained  consciousness  after  the  club- 
bing. The  woman  stared,  and  there  was  a  sudden 
catch  in  her  breath  after  the  little  cry  that  had  fallen 
from  her  lips.  Many  times  she  had  seen  Jacques 
club  his  dogs,  but  never  had  she  seen  one  clubbed 
like  this.  Miki's  head  and  shoulders  were  a  mass 
of  frozen  blood.  And  then  she  saw  his  eyes.  They 
were  looking  straight  up  at  her.  She  turned, 
fearing  that  Jacques  might  see  what  was  in  her  face. 

Le  Beau  dragged  his  burden  straight  into  the  cabin, 
and  then  stood  back  and  rubbed  his  hands  as  he 
looked  at  Miki  on  the  floor.  Nanette  saw  that  he 
was  in  a  strangely  good  humour,  and  waited. 

"By  the  Blessed  Saints,  but  you  should  have  seen 
him  kill  Netah — almost,"  he  exulted.  "Oui;  he 
had  him  down  by  the  throat  quicker  than  you  could 
flash  your  eye,  and  twice  he  was  within  an  inch  of 
my  life  when  I  fought  him  with  the  club.  Dieu! 
I  say,  what  will  happen  to  Durant's  dog  when  they 


210  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

meet  at  Post  Fort  O'  God?  I  will  make  a  side  wager 
that  he  kills  him  before  the  second-hand  of  le 
Fadeur's  watch  goes  round  twice.  He  is  splendid! 
Watch  him,  Nanette,  while  I  go  make  a  corral  for 
him  alone.  If  I  put  him  in  with  the  pack  he  will 
kill  them  all." 

Miki's  eyes  followed  him  as  he  disappeared  through 
the  cabin  door.  Then  he  looked  swiftly  back  to 
Nanette.  She  had  drawn  nearer.  Her  eyes  were 
shining  as  she  bent  over  him.  A  snarl  rose  in  Miki's 
throat,  and  died  there.  For  the  first  time  he  was 
looking  upon  WOMAN.  He  sensed,  all  at  once,  a  dif- 
ference as  vast  as  the  world  itself.  In  his  bruised 
and  broken  body  his  heart  stood  still.  Nanette 
spoke  to  him.  Never  in  his  life  had  he  heard  a  voice 
like  hers — soft  and  gentle,  with  a  breaking  sob  in  it; 
and  then — miracle  of  miracles — she  had  dropped  on 
her  knees  and  her  hands  were  at  his  head! 

In  that  instant  his  spirit  leapt  back  through  the 
generations — back  beyond  his  father,  and  his  father's 
father;  back  to  that  far  day  when  the  blood  in  the 
veins  of  his  race  was  "just  dog,"  and  he  romped 
with  children,  and  listened  to  the  call  of  woman, 
and  worshipped  at  the  shrine  of  human-kind.  And 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

now  the  woman  had  run  quickly  to  the  stove,  and 
was  back  again  with  a  dish  of  warm  water  and  a 
soft  cloth,  and  was  bathing  his  head,  talking  to  him 
all  the  time  in  that  gentle,  half-sobbing  voice  of 
pity  and  of  love.  He  closed  his  eyes — no  longer 
afraid.  A  great  sigh  heaved  out  of  his  body.  He 
wanted  to  put  out  his  tongue  and  lick  the  slim  wkite 
hands  that  were  bringing  him  peace  and  comfort. 
And  then  the  strangest  thing  of  all  happened.  In 
the  crib  the  baby  sat  up  and  began  to  prattle.  It 
was  a  new  note  to  Miki,  a  new  song  of  Life's  spring- 
tide to  him,  but  it  thrilled  him  as  nothing  else  in  all 
the  world  had  ever  thrilled  him  before.  He  opened 
his  eyes  wide — and  whined. 

A  laugh  of  joy — new  and  strange  even  to  herself 
— came  into  the  woman's  voice,  and  she  ran  to  the 
crib  and  returned  with  the  baby  in  her  arms.  She 
knelt  down  beside  him  again,  and  the  baby,  at  sight 
of  this  strange  plaything  on  the  floor,  thrust  out  its 
little  arms,  and  kicked  its  tiny  moccasined  feet,  and 
cooed  and  laughed  and  squirmed  until  Miki  strained 
at  his  thongs  to  get  a  little  nearer  that  he  might 
touch  this  wonderful  creature  with  his  nose.  He 
forgot  his  pain.  He  no  longer  sensed  the  agony  of 


212  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

his  bruised  and  beaten  jaws.  He  did  not  feel  the 
numbness  of  his  tightly  bound  and  frozen  legs. 
Every  instinct  in  him  was  centred  in  these  two. 

And  the  woman,  now,  was  beautiful.  She  under- 
stood; and  the  gentle  heart  throbbed  in  her  bosom, 
forgetful  of  The  Brute.  Her  eyes  glowed  with  the 
soft  radiance  of  stars.  Into  her  pale  cheeks  came  a 
sweet  flush.  She  sat  the  baby  down,  and  with  the 
cloth  and  warm  water  continued  to  bathe  Miki's 
head.  Le  Beau,  had  he  been  human,  must  have 
worshipped  her  then  as  she  knelt  there,  all  that  was 
pure  and  beautiful  in  motherhood,  an  angel  of  mercy, 
radiant  for  a  moment  in  her  forgetfulness  of  him. 
And  Le  Beau  did  enter — and  see  her — so  quietly 
that  for  a  space  she  did  not  realize  his  presence;  and 
with  him  staring  down  on  her  she  continued  to  talk 
and  laugh  and  half  sob,  and  the  baby  kicked  and 
prattled  and  flung  out  its  little  arms  wildly  in  the 
joy  of  these  exciting  moments. 

Le  Beau's  thick  lips  drew  back  in  an  ugly  leer, 
and  he  gave  a  savage  curse.  Nanette  flinched  as  if 
struck  a  blow. 

"Get  up,  you  fool!"  he  snarled. 

She  obeyed,  shrinking  back  with  the  baby  in  her 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  213 

arms.  Miki  saw  the  change,  and  the  greenish  fire 
returned  into  his  eyes  when  he  caught  sight  of  Le 
Beau.  A  deep  and  wolfish  snarl  rose  in  his  throat. 
Le  Beau  turned  on  Nanette.  The  glow  and  the 
flush  had  not  quite  gone  from  her  eyes  and  cheeks 
as  she  stood  with  the  baby  hugged  up  to  her  breast, 
and  her  big  shining  braid  had  fallen  over  her  shoul- 
der, glistening  with  a  velvety  fire  in  the  light  that 
came  through  the  western  window.  But  Le  Beau 
saw  nothing  of  this. 

"If  you  make  a  poos  (a  house-kitten)  of  that 
dog — a  thing  like  you  made  of  Minoo,  the  breed- 
bitch,  I  will- 
He  did  not  finish,  but  his  huge  hands  were  clinch- 
ed, and  there  was  an  ugly  passion  in  his  eyes. 
Nanette  needed  no  more  than  that.  She  under- 
stood. She  had  received  many  blows,  but  there  was 
the  memory  of  one  that  never  left  her,  night  or  day. 
Some  day,  if  she  could  ever  get  to  Post  Fort  O'  God, 
and  had  the  courage,  she  would  tell  le  Facteur  of 
that  blow — how  Jacques  Le  Beau,  her  husband, 
struck  it  at  the  nursing  time,  and  her  bosom  was  so 
hurt  that  the  baby  of  two  years  ago  had  died.  She 
would  tell  it,  when  she  knew  she  and  the  baby  would 


214  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

be  safe  from  the  vengeance  of  the  Brute.  And 
only  le  Factewr— the  Big  Man  at  Post  Fort  O'  God 
a  hundred  miles  away — was  powerful  enough  to 
save  her. 

It  was  well  that  Le  Beau  did  not  read  this  thought 
in  her  mind  now.  With  his  warning  he  turned  to 
Miki  and  dragged  him  out  of  the  cabin  to  a  cage 
made  of  saplings  in  which  the  winter  before  he  had 
kept  two  live  foxes.  A  small  chain  ten  feet  in 
length  he  fastened  around  Miki's  neck  and  then  to 
one  of  the  sapling  bars  before  he  thrust  his  prisoner 
inside  the  door  of  the  prison  and  freed  him  by  cutting 
the  babiche  thongs  with  a  knife. 

For  several  minutes  after  that  Miki  lay  still  while 
the  blood  made  its  way  slowly  through  his  numbed 
and  half -frozen  limbs.  At  last  he  staggered  to  his 
feet,  and  then  it  was  that  Le  Beau  chuckled  jubi- 
lantly and  turned  back  to  the  cabin. 

And  now  followed  many  days  that  were  days  of  hell 
and  torment  for  him — an  unequal  struggle  between 
the  power  of  The  Brute  and  the  spirit  of  the  Dog. 

"I  must  break  you — Owl  by  the  Christ!  I  will 
break  you!" — Le  Beau  would  say  time  and  again 
when  he  came  with  the  club  and  the  whip.  "I  will 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  215 

make  you  crawl  to  me — oui,  and  when  I  say  fight 
you  will  fight!" 

It  was  a  small  cage,  so  small  that  Miki  could  not 
get  away  from  the  reach  of  the  club  and  the  whip. 
They  maddened  him — for  a  time,  and  Le  Beau's 
ugly  soul  was  filled  with  joy  as  Miki  launched  him- 
self again  and  again  at  the  sapling  bars,  tearing  at 
them  with  his  teeth  and  frothing  blood  like  a  wolf 
gone  mad.  For  twenty  years  Le  Beau  had  trained 
fighting  dogs,  and  this  was  his  way.  So  he  had  done 
with  Netah  until  The  Killer  was  mastered,  and  at 
his  call  crept  to  him  on  his  belly. 

Three  times,  from  a  window  in  the  cabin,  Nanette 
looked  forth  on  these  horrible  struggles  between  the 
man  and  the  dog,  and  the  third  time  she  buried  her 
face  in  her  arms  and  sobbed;  and  whenLe  Beau 
came  in  and  found  her  crying  he  dragged  her  to  the 
window  and  made  her  look  out  again  at  Miki,  who 
lay  bleeding  and  half  dead  in  the  cage.  It  was  a 
morning  on  which  he  started  the  round  of  his  traps, 
and  he  was  always  gone  until  late  the  following  day. 
And  never  was  he  more  than  well  out  of  sight  than 
Nanette  would  run  out  and  go  to  the  cage. 

It  was  then  that  Miki  forgot  The  Brute.    At 


216  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

times  so  beaten  and  blinded  that  he  could  scarcely 
stand  or  see,  he  would  crawl  to  the  bars  of  the  cage 
and  caress  the  soft  hands  that  Nanette  held  in  fear- 
lessly to  him.  And  then,  after  a  little,  Nanette 
began  to  bring  the  baby  out  with  her,  bundled  up 
like  a  little  Eskimo,  and  in  his  joy  Miki  whimpered 
and  wagged  his  tail  and  grovelled  in  his  worship 
before  these  two. 

It  was  in  the  second  week  of  his  captivity  that  the 
wonderful  thing  happened.  Le  Beau  was  gone,  and 
there  was  a  raging  blizzard  outside  to  which  Nanette 
dared  not  expose  the  baby.  So  she  went  to  the  cage, 
and  with  a  heart  that  beat  wildly,  she  unbarred  the 
door — and  brought  Miki  into  the  cabin!  If  Le 
Beau  should  ever  discover  what  she  had  done !" 

The  thought  made  her  shiver. 

After  this  first  time  she  brought  him  into  the  cabin 
again  and  again.  Once  her  heart  stood  still  when 
Le  Beau  saw  blood  on  the  floor,  and  his  eyes  shot 
at  her  suspiciously.  Then  she  lied. 

"I  cut  my  finger  she  said,"  and  a  moment  later, 
with  her  back  to  him,  she  did  cut  it,  and  when 
Jacques  looked  at  her  hand  he  saw  a  cloth  about  the 
finger,  with  blood-stain  on  it. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  217 

After  that  Nanette  always  watched  the  floor 
carefully. 

More  and  more  this  cabin,  with  the  woman  and 
the  baby  in  it,  became  a  paradise  for  Miki.  Then 
came  the  time  when  Nanette  dared  to  keep  him  in 
the  cabin  with  her  all  night,  and  lying  close  to  the 
precious  cradle  Miki  never  once  took  his  eyes  from 
her.  It  was  late  when  she  prepared  for  bed.  She 
changed  into  a  long,  soft  robe,  and  then,  sitting  near 
Miki,  with  her  bare  little  feet  in  the  fireglow,  she 
took  down  her  wonderful  hair  and  began  brushing 
it.  It  was  the  first  time  Miki  had  seen  this  new  and 
marvellous  garment  about  her.  It  fell  over  her 
shoulders  and  breast  and  almost  to  the  floor  in  a 
shimmering  glory,  and  the  scent  of  it  was  so  sweet 
that  Miki  crept  a  few  inches  nearer,  and  whimpered 
softly.  After  she  had  done  brushing  it  Miki  watched 
her  as  her  slim  fingers  plaited  it  into  two  braids; 
and  then,  before  she  put  the  light  out,  a  still  more 
curious  thing  happened.  She  went  to  her  bed, 
made  of  saplings,  against  the  wall,  and  from  its 
hiding  place  under  the  blankets  drew  forth  tenderly 
a  little  ivory  Crucifix.  With  this  in  her  hands  she 
knelt  upon  the  log  floor,  and  Miki  listened  to  her 


218  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

prayer.  He  did  not  know,  but  she  was  asking  God 
to  be  good  to  her  baby — the  little  Nanette  in  the 
crib. 

After  that  she  cuddled  the  baby  up  in  her  arms, 
and  put  out  the  light,  and  went  to  bed;  and  through 
all  the  hours  of  the  night  Miki  made  no  sound  that 
would  waken  them. 

In  the  morning,  when  Nanette  opened  her  eyes, 
she  found  Miki  with  his  head  resting  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  close  to  the  baby  that  was  nestled  against 
her  bosom. 

That  morning,  as  she  built  the  fire,  something 
strange  and  stirring  in  Nanette's  breast  made  her 
sing.  Le  Beau  would  be  away  until  dark  that  night, 
and  she  would  never  dare  to  tell  him  what  she  and 
the  baby  and  the  dog  were  going  to  do.  It  was  her 
birthday.  Twenty-six;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  lived  the  time  of  two  lives!  And  eight  of 
those  years  with  The  Brute!  But  to-day  they 
would  celebrate,  they  three.  All  the  morning  the 
cabin  was  filled  with  a  new  spirit — a  new  happiness. 

Years  ago,  before  she  had  met  Le  Beau,  the  Indians 
away  back  on  the  Waterfound  had  called  Nanette 
"Tanta  Penashe"  ("the  Little  Bird")  because  of  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  219 

marvellous  sweetness  of  her  voice.  And  this  morn- 
ing she  sang  as  she  prepared  the  birthday  feast; 
the  sun  flooded  through  the  windows,  and  Miki 
whimpered  happily  and  thumped  his  tail,  and  the 
baby  cackled  and  crowed,  and  The  Brute  was  for- 
gotten. In  that  forgetfulness  Nanette  was  a  girl 
again,  sweet  and  beautiful  as  in  those  days  when  old 
Jackpine,  the  Cree — who  was  now  dead — had  told 
her  that  she  was  born  of  the  flowers.  The  wonderful 
dinner  was  ready  at  last,  and  to  the  baby's  delight 
Nanette  induced  Miki  to  sit  on  a  chair  at  the  table. 
He  felt  foolish  there,  and  he  looked  so  foolish  that 
Nanette  laughed  until  her  long  dark  lashes  were 
damp  with  tears;  and  then,  when  Miki  slunk  down 
from  the  chair,  feeling  his  shame  horribly,  she  ran 
to  him  and  put  her  arms  around  him  and  pleaded 
with  him  until  he  took  his  place  at  the  table  again. 

So  the  day  passed  until  mid-afternoon,  when 
Nanette  cleared  away  all  signs  of  the  celebration  and 
locked  Miki  in  his  cage.  It  was  fortunate  she  was 
ahead  of  time,  for  scarcely  was  she  done  when  Le 
Beau  came  into  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  and  with 
him  was  Durant,  his  acquaintance  and  rival  from 
the  edge  of  the  Barrens  farther  north.  Durant 


220  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

had  sent  his  outfit  on  to  Port  O'  God  by  an  Indian, 
and  had  struck  south  and  west  with  two  dogs  and 
a  sledge  to  visit  a  cousin  for  a  day  or  two.  He  was 
on  his  way  to  the  Post  when  he  came  upon  Le  Beau 
on  his  trapline. 

Thus  much  Le  Beau  told  Nanette,  and  Nanette 
looked  at  Durant  with  startled  eyes.  They  were  a 
good  pair,  Jacques  and  his  guest,  only  that  Durant 
was  older.  She  had  become  somewhat  accustomed 
to  the  brutality  in  Le  Beau's  face,  but  she  thought 
that  Durant  was  a  monster.  He  made  her  afraid, 
and  she  was  glad  when  they  went  from  the  cabin. 

"Now  I  will  show  you  the  bete  that  is  going  to  kill 
your  poos  as  easily  as  your  lead-whelp  killed  that 
rabbit  to-day,  m'sieu,"  exulted  Jacques.  "I  have 
told  you  but  you  have  not  seen!" 

And  he  took  with  him  the  club  and  the  whip. 

Like  a  tiger  fresh  out  of  the  jungles  Miki  responded 
to  the  club  and  the  whip  to-day,  until  Durant  him- 
self stood  aghast,  and  exclaimed  under  his  breath: 
"Mon  Dieul  he  is  a  devil!" 

From  the  window  Nanette  saw  what  was  happen- 
ing, and  out  of  her  rose  a  cry  of  anguish.  Sudden 
as  a  burst  of  fire  there  arose  in  her — triumphant  at 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  221 

last  and  unafraid — that  thing  which  for  years  The 
Brute  had  crushed  back:  her  womanhood  resurrected  I 
Her  soul  broken  free  of  its  shackles!  Her  faith, 
her  strength,  her  courage!  She  turned  from  the 
window  and  ran  to  the  door,  and  out  over  the  snow 
to  the  cage;  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 
struck  at  Le  Beau,  and  beat  fiercely  at  the  arm 
that  was  wielding  the  club. 

"You  beast!"  she  cried.  "I  tell  you,  you  shall 
not!  -  Do  you  hear?  You  SHALL  NOT! " 

Paralyzed  with  amazement,  The  Brute  stood  still. 
Was  this  Nanette,  his  slave?  This  wonderful 
creature  with  eyes  that  were  glowing  fire  and  de- 
fiance, and  a  look  in  her  face  that  he  had  never  seen 
in  any  woman's  face  before?  Non — impossible! 
Hot  rage  rose  in  him,  and  with  a  single  sweep  of  his 
powerful  arm  he  flung  her  back  so  that  she  fell  to 
the  earth.  With  a  wild  curse  he  lifted  the  bar  of  the 
cage  door. 

"I  will  kill  him,  now;  I  will  kill  him!"  he  almost 
shrieked.     "And    it    is    you — YOU — you    she-devil! 
who  shall  eat  his  heart  alive!    I  will  force  it  down 
your  throat:  I  will- 
He  was  dragging  Miki  forth  by  the  chain.     The 


222  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

club  rose  as  Miki's  head  came  through.  In  another 
instant  it  would  have  beaten  his  head  to  a  pulp — • 
but  Nanette  was  between  it  and  the  dog  like  a  flash, 
and  the  blow  went  wild.  It  was  with  his  fist  that 
Le  Beau  struck  out  now,  and  the  blow  caught 
Nanette  on  the  shoulder  and  sent  her  frail  body 
down  with  a  crash.  The  Brute  sprang  upon  her. 
His  fingers  gripped  in  her  thick,  soft  hair. 

And  then 

From  Durant  came  a  warning  cry.  It  was  too 
late.  A  lean  gray  streak  of  vengeance  and  retribu- 
tion, Miki  was  at  the  end  of  his  chain  and  at  Le 
Beau's  throat.  Nanette  heard!  Through  dazed 
eyes  she  saw!  She  reached  out  gropingly  and  strug- 
gled to  her  feet,  and  looked  just  once  down  upon  the 
snow.  Then,  with  a  terrible  cry,  she  staggered  to- 
ward the  cabin. 

When  Durant  gathered  courage  to  drag  Le  Beau 
out  of  Miki's  reach  Miki  made  no  movement  to 
harm  him.  Again,  perhaps,  it  was  the  Benefi- 
cent Spirit  that  told  him  his  duty  was  done.  He 
went  back  into  his  cage,  and  lying  there  on  his  belly 
looked  forth  at  Durant. 

And  Durant,  looking  at  the  blood-stained  snow 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  223 

and  the  dead  body  of  The  Brute,  whispered  to  him- 
self again: 

"Mon  Dieu!  he  is  a  devil!" 

In  the  cabin,  Nanette  was  upon  her  knees  before 
the  crucifix. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 


f"  ""^HERE  are  times  when  death  is  a  shock,  but 
not  a  grief.  And  so  it  was  with  Nanette  Le 

-**  Beau.  With  her  own  eyes  she  had  looked 
upon  the  terrible  fate  of  her  husband,  and  it  was 
not  in  her  gentle  soul  to  weep  or  wish  him  alive  again. 
At  last  there  had  overtaken  him  what  le  bon  Dieu 
had  intended  him  to  receive  some  day:  justice.  And 
for  the  baby's  sake  more  than  her  own  Nanette 
was  not  sorry.  Durant,  whose  soul  was  only  a  little 
less  wicked  than  the  dead  man's,  had  not  even  waited 
for  a  prayer — had  not  asked  her  what  to  do.  He 
had  chopped  a  hole  in  the  frozen  earth  and  had 
buried  Le  Beau  almost  before  his  body  was  cold. 
And  Nanette  was  not  sorry  for  that.  The  Brute 
was  gone.  He  was  gone  for  ever.  He  would  never 
strike  her  again.  And  because  of  the  baby  she 
offered  up  a  prayer  of  gratitude  to  God. 

In  his  prison-cage  of  sapling  bars  Miki  cringed  on 
his  belly  at  the  end  of  his  chain.  He  had  scarcely 

224 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  225 

moved  since  those  terrible  moments  in  which  he 
had  torn  the  life  out  of  the  man-brute's  throat. 
He  had  not  even  growled  at  Durant  when  he  drag- 
ged the  body  away.  Upon  him  had  fallen  a  fearful 
and  overwhelming  oppression.  He  was  not  think- 
ing of  his  own  brutal  beatings,  or  of  the  death  which 
Le  Beau  had  been  about  to  inflict  upon  him  with  the 
club;  he  did  not  feel  the  presence  of  pain  in  his 
bruised  and  battered  body,  nor  in  his  bleeding  jaws 
and  whip-lashed  eyes.  He  was  thinking  of  Nanette, 
the  woman.  Why  had  she  run  away  with  that  ter- 
rible cry  when  he  killed  the  man-beast?  Was  it  not 
the  man-beast  who  had  struck  her  down,  and  whose 
hands  were  at  her  white  throat  when  he  sprang  the 
length  of  his  chain  and  tore  out  his  jugular?  Then 
why  was  it  that  she  ran  away,  and  did  not  come  back? 

He  whimpered  softly. 

The  afternoon  was  almost  gone,  and  the  early 
gloom  of  mid-winter  night  in  the  Northland  was 
settling  thickly  over  the  forests.  In  that  gloom  the 
dark  face  of  Durant  appeared  at  the  bars  of  Miki's 
prison.  Instinctively  Miki  had  hated  this  fox- 
hunter  from  the  edge  of  the  Barrens,  just  as  he  had 
hated  Le  Beau,  for  in  their  brutish  faces  as  well  as 


226  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

in  their  hearts  they  were  like  brothers.  Yet  he  did 
not  growl  at  Durant  as  he  peered  through.  He  did 
not  even  move. 

"  Ugh  !    le  diable  I "  shuddered  Durant. 

Then  he  laughed.  It  was  a  low,  terrible  laugh, 
half  smothered  in  his  coarse  black  beard,  and  it  sent 
an  odd  chill  through  Miki. 

He  turned  after  that  and  went  into  the  cabin. 

Nanette  rose  to  meet  him,  her  great  dark  eyes 
glowing  in  a  face  dead  white.  She  had  not  yet  risen 
above  the  shock  of  Le  Beau's  tragic  death,  and  yet 
in  those  eyes  there  was  already  something  re-born. 
It  had  not  been  there  when  Durant  came  to  the  cabin 
with  Le  Beau  that  afternoon.  He  looked  at  her 
strangely  as  she  stood  with  the  baby  in  her  arms. 
She  was  another  Nanette.  He  felt  uneasy.  Why 
was  it  that  a  few  hours  ago  he  had  laughed  boldly 
when  her  husband  had  cursed  her  and  said  vile  things 
in  her  presence — and  now  he  could  not  meet  the 
steady  gaze  of  her  eyes?  Dieu!  he  had  never  before 
observed  how  lovely  she  was!  He  drew  himself 
together,  and  stated  the  business  in  his  mind. 

"  You  will  not  want  the  dog,"  he  said.  "  I  will  take 
him  away." 


NOMADS 'OF  THE  NORTH  227 

Nanette  did  not  answer.  She  seemed  scarcely 
to  be  breathing  as  she  looked  at  him.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  she  was  waiting  for  him  to  explain;  and 
then  the  inspiration  to  lie  leapt  into  his  mind. 

"You  know,  there  was  to  be  the  big  fight  between 
his  dog  and  mine  at  Post  Fort  O'  God  at  the  New 
Year  carnival,"  he  went  on,  shuffling  his  heavy  feet. 
"For  that,  Jacques — your  husband — was  training 
the  wild  dog.  And  when  I  saw  that  oochun — that 
wolf  devil — tearing  at  the  bars  of  the  cage  I  knew 
he  would  kill  my  dog  as  a  fox  kills  a  rabbit.  So  we 
struck  a  bargain,  and  for  the  two  cross  foxes  and  the 
ten  red  which  I  have  outside  I  bought  him."  (The 
vraisemblance  of  his  lie  gave  him  courage.  It  sounded 
like  truth,  and  Jacques,  the  dead  man,  was  not 
there  to  repudiate  his  claim.)  "So  he  is  mine,"  he 
finished  a  little  exultantly,  "and  I  will  take  him  to 
the  Post,  and  will  fight  him  against  any  dog  or  wolf  in 
all  the  North.  Shall  I  bring  in  the  skins,  madame  f  " 

"He  is  not  for  sale,"  said  Nanette,  the  glow  in  her 
eyes  deepening.  "He  is  my  dog — mine  and  the 
baby's.  Do  you  understand,  Henri  Durant?  He 
is  not  for  sale  !  " 

"Oui"  gasped  Durant,  amazed. 


228  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

"And  when  you  reach  Post  Fort  O'  God,  m'sieu, 
you  will  tell  le  Facteur  that  Jacques  is  dead,  and  how 
he  died,  and  say  that  some  one  must  be  sent  for  the 
baby  and  me.  We  will  stay  here  until  then." 

"  Oui,"  said  Durant  again,  backing  to  the  door. 

He  had  never  seen  her  like  that.  He  wondered 
how  Jacques  Le  Beau  could  swear  at  her,  and  strike 
her.  For  himself,  he  was  afraid.  Standing  there 
with  those  wonderful  eyes  and  white  face,  with 
the  baby  in  her  arms,  and  her  shining  hair  over  her 
breasts,  she  made  him  think  of  a  picture  he  had  once 
seen  of  the  Blessed  Lady. 

He  went  out  through  the  door  and  back  to  the 
sapling  cage  where  Miki  lay.  Softly  he  spoke 
through  the  bars. 

"Ow,  bete"  he  called;  "she  will  not  sell  you.  She 
keeps  you  because  you  fought  for  her,  and  killed 
mon  ami,  Jacques  Le  Beau.  And  so  I  must  take  you 
my  own  way.  In  a  little  while  the  moon  will  be  up, 
and  then  I  will  slip  a  noose  over  your  head  at  the 
end  of  a  pole,  and  will  choke  you  so  quickly  she  will 
not  hear  a  sound.  And  who  will  know  where  you 
are  gone,  if  the  cage  door  is  left  open?  And  you 
will  fight  for  me  at  Post  Fort  O'  God.  Mon  Dieu  f 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  229 

how  you  will  fight!  I  swear  it  will  do  the  ghost  of 
Jacques  Le  Beau  good  to  see  what  happens  there." 

He  went  away,  to  where  he  had  left  his  light  sledge 
and  two  dogs  in  the  edge  of  the  timber,  and  waited 
for  the  moon  to  rise. 

Still  Miki  did  not  move.  A  light  had  appeared 
in  the  window  of  the  cabin,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed 
on  it  yearningly  as  the  low  whine  gathered  in  his 
throat  again.  His  world  no  longer  lay  beyond  that 
window.  The  Woman  and  the  baby  had  obliterated 
in  him  all  desire  but  to  be  with  them. 

In  the  cabin  Nanette  was  thinking  of  him — and  of 
Durant.  The  man's  words  came  to  her  again, 
vividly,  significantly:  "You  will  not  want  the  dog." 
Yes,  all  the  forest  people  would  say  that  same  thing — 
even  le  Facteur  himself,  when  he  heard.  She  would 
not  want  the  dog  !  And  why  not?  Because  he  had 
killed  Jacques  Le  Beau,  her  husband,  in  defence  of 
her?  Because  he  had  freed  her  from  the  bondage 
of  The  Brute?  Because  God  had  sent  him  to  the 
end  of  his  chain  in  that  terrible  moment  that  the 
baby  Nanette  might  live,  as  the  other  had  not,  and 
that  she  might  grow  up  with  laughter  on  her  lips 
instead  of  sobs?  In  her  there  rose  suddenly  a  thought 


£30  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

that  fanned  the  new  flame  in  her  heart.  It  must 
have  been  le  bon  Dieu  !  Others  might  doubt,  but  she 
— never.  She  recalled  all  that  Le  Beau  had  told  her 
about  the  wild  dog — how  for  many  days  he  had 
robbed  the  traps,  and  the  terrific  fight  he  had  made 
when  at  last  he  was  caught.  And  of  all  that  The 
Brute  had  said  there  stood  out  most  the  words 
he  had  spoken  one  day. 

"  He  is  a  devil,  but  he  was  not  born  of  wolf.  Non, 
some  time,  a  long  time  ago,  he  was  a  white  man's 
dog." 

A  white  man's  dog  ! 

Her  soul  thrilled.  Once — a  long  time  ago — he  had 
known  a  master  with  a  white  heart,  just  as  she  had 
known  a  girlhood  in  which  the  flowers  bloomed  and 
the  birds  sang.  She  tried  to  look  back,  but  she 
could  not  see  very  far.  She  could  not  vision  that 
day,  less  than  a  year  ago,  when  Miki,  an  angular 
pup,  came  down  out  of  the  Farther  North  with 
Challoner;  she  could  not  vision  the  strange  comrade- 
ship between  the  pup  and  Neewa,  the  little  black 
bear  cub,  nor  that  tragic  day  when  they  had  fallen 
out  of  Challoner's  canoe  into  the  swift  stream  that 
had  carried  them  over  the  waterfall  and  into  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  £31 

Great  Adventure  which  had  turned  Neewa  into  a 
grown  bear  and  Miki  into  a  wild  dog.  But  in  her 
heart  she  felt  the  things  which  she  could  not  see. 
Miki  had  not  come  by  chance.  Something  greater 
than  that  had  sent  him. 

She  rose  quietly,  so  that  she  would  not  waken  the 
baby  in  the  crib,  and  opened  the  door.  The  moon 
was  just  rising  over  the  forest  and  through  the  glow 
of  it  she  went  to  the  cage.  She  heard  the  dog's 
joyous  whine,  and  then  she  felt  the  warm  caress  of 
his  tongue  upon  her  bare  hands  as  she  thrust  them 
between  the  sapling  bars. 

"Non,  non;  you  are  not  a  devil,"  she  cried  softly, 
her  voice  filled  with  a  strange  tremble.  "O-o-ee, 
my  Soketaao,  I  prayed,  prayed — and  you  came. 
Yes,  on  my  knees  each  night  I  prayed  to  Our  Blessed 
Lady  that  she  might  have  mercy  on  my  baby,  and 
make  the  sun  in  heaven  shine  for  her  through  all 
time.  And  you  came  !  And  the  dear  God  does  not 
send  devils  in  answer  to  prayer.  Non;  never!" 

And  Miki,  as  though  some  spirit  had  given  him 
the  power  to  understand,  rested  the  weight  of  his 
bruised  and  beaten  head  on  her  hands. 

From  the  edge  of  the  forest  Durant  was  watching. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

He  had  caught  the  flash  of  light  from  the  door  and 
had  seen  Nanette  go  to  the  cage,  and  his  eyes  did 
not  leave  her  until  she  returned  into  the  cabin.  He 
laughed  as  he  went  to  his  fire  and  finished  making 
the  wahgun  he  was  fastening  to  the  end  of  a  long  pole. 
This  wahgun  and  the  pole  added  to  his  own  cleverness 
were  saving  him  twelve  good  fox  skins,  and  he  con- 
tinued to  chuckle  there  in  the  fireglow  as  he  thought 
how  easy  it  was  to  beat  a  woman's  wits.  Nanette 
was  a  fool  to  refuse  the  pelts,  and  Jacques  was — dead. 
It  was  a  most  lucky  combination  of  circumstances 
for  him.  Fortune  had  surely  come  his  way.  On 
le  bete,  as  he  called  the  wild  dog,  he  would  gamble 
all  that  he  possessed  in  the  big  fight.  And  he  would 
win. 

He  waited  until  the  light  in  the  cabin  went  out 
before  he  approached  the  cage  again.  Miki  heard 
him  coming.  At  a  considerable  distance  he  saw 
him,  for  the  moon  was  already  turning  the  night 
into  day.  Durant  knew  the  ways  of  dogs.  With 
them  he  employed  a  superior  reason  where  Le  Beau 
had  used  the  club  and  the  rawhide.  So  he  came  up 
openly  and  boldly,  and,  as  if  by  accident,  dropped 
the  end  of  the  pole  between  the  bars.  With  his 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  233 

hands  against  the  cage,  apparently  unafraid,  he 
began  talking  in  a  casual  way.  He  was  different 
from  Le  Beau.  Miki  watched  him  closely  for  a 
space  and  then  let  his  eyes  rest  again  on  the  darkened 
cabin  window.  Stealthily  Durant  began  to  take 
advantage  of  his  opportunity.  A  little  at  a  time 
he  moved  the  end  of  the  pole  until  it  was  over  Miki's 
head,  with  the  deadly  bowstring  and  its  open  noose 
hanging  down.  He  was  an  adept  in  the  use  of  the 
wahgun.  Many  foxes  and  wolves,  and  even  a  bear, 
he  had  caught  that  way.  Miki,  numbed  by  the 
cold,  scarcely  felt  the  babiche  noose  as  it  settled  softly 
about  his  neck.  He  did  not  see  Durant  brace  him- 
self, with  his  feet  against  the  running-log  of  the  cage. 
Then,  suddenly,  Durant  lurched  himself  back- 
ward, and  it  seemed  to  Miki  as  though  a  giant  trap 
of  steel  had  closed  about  his  neck.  Instantly  his 
wind  was  cut  off.  He  could  make  no  sound  as  he 
struggled  frantically  to  free  himself.  Hand  over 
hand  Durant  dragged  him  to  the  bars,  and  there, 
with  his  feet  still  braced,  he  choked  with  his  whole 
weight  until — when  at  last  he  let  up  on  the  wahgun — 
Miki  collapsed  as  if  dead.  Ten  seconds  later  Durant 
was  looping  a  muzzle  over  his  closed  jaws.  He 


234  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

left  the  cage  door  open  when  he  went  back  to  his 
sledge,  carrying  Mild  in  his  arms.  Nanette's  slow 
wits  would  never  guess,  he  told  himself.  She  would 
think  that  le  bete  had  escaped  into  the  forest. 

It  was  not  his  scheme  to  club  Miki  into  serfdom, 
as  Le  Beau  had  failed  to  do.  Durant  was  wiser 
than  that.  In  his  crude  and  merciless  way  he  had 
come  to  know  certain  phenomena  of  the  animal  mind. 
He  was  not  a  psychologist;  on  the  other  hand  bru- 
tality had  not  utterly  blinded  him.  So,  instead  of 
lashing  Miki  to  the  sledge  as  Le  Beau  had  fastened 
him  to  his  improvised  drag,  Durant  made  his  captive 
comfortable,  covering  him  with  a  warm  blanket 
before  he  began  his  journey  eastward.  He  made 
sure,  however,  that  there  was  no  flaw  in  the  muzzle 
about  Miki's  jaws,  and  that  the  free  end  of  the  chain 
to  which  he  was  still  fastened  was  well  hitched  to  the 
Gee-bar  of  his  sledge. 

When  these  things  were  done  Durant  set  off  in  the 
direction  of  Fort  O'  God,  and  if  Jacques  Le  Beau 
could  have  seen  him  then  he  would  have  had  good 
reason  to  guess  at  his  elation.  By  taint  of  birth 
and  blood  Durant  was  a  gambler  first,  and  a  trapper 
afterward.  He  set  his  traps  that  he  might  have  the 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  235 

thrill  of  wagering  his  profits,  and  for  half  a  dozen 
successive  years  he  had  won  at  the  big  annual  dog 
fight  at  Post  Fort  O'  God.  But  this  year  he  had 
been  half  afraid.  His  fear  had  not  been  of  Jacques 
Le  Beau  and  Netah,  but  of  the  halfbreed  away  over 
on  Red  Belly  Lake.  Grouse  Piet  was  the  halfbreed's 
name,  and  the  "dog"  that  he  was  going  to  put  up 
at  the  fight  was  hah6  wolf.  Therefore,  in  the  foolish 
eagerness  of  his  desire,  had  Durant  offered  two  cross 
foxes  and  ten  reds — the  price  of  five  dogs  and  not  one 
—for  the  possession  of  Le  Beau's  wild  dog.  And 
now  that  he  had  him  for  nothing,  and  Nanette  was 
poorer  by  twelve  skins,  he  was  happy.  For  he  had 
now  a  good  match  for  Grouse  Piet's  half  wolf,  and 
he  would  chance  his  money  and  his  credit  at  the 
Post  to  the  limit. 

When  Miki  came  back  to  his  senses  Durant  stopped 
his  dogs,  for  he  had  been  watching  closely  for  this 
moment.  He  bent  over  the  sledge  and  began  talk- 
ing, not  in  Le  Beau's  brutal  way,  but  in  a  careless 
chummy  sort  of  voice,  and  with  his  mittened  hand 
he  patted  his  captive's  head.  This  was  a  new  thing 
to  Miki,  for  he  knew  that  it  was  not  the  hand  of 
Nanette,  but  of  a  man-beast,  and  the  softness  of  his 


236  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

nest  in  the  blanket,  over  which  Henri  had  thrown  a 
bear  skin,  was  also  new.  A  short  time  ago  he  was 
frozen  and  stiff.  Now  he  was  warm  and  comfortable. 
So  he  did  not  move.  And  Durant  exulted  in  his 
cleverness.  He  did  not  travel  far  in  the  night, 
but  stopped  four  or  five  miles  from  Nanette's  cabin, 
and  built  a  fire.  Over  this  he  boiled  coffee  and 
roasted  meat.  He  allowed  the  meat  to  roast  slowly, 
turning  it  round  and  round  on  a  wooden  spit,  so 
that  the  aroma  of  it  grew  thick  and  inviting  in  the  air. 
He  had  fastened  his  two  sledge  dogs  fifty  paces  away, 
but  the  sledge  was  close  to  the  fire,  and  he  watched 
the  effect  on  Miki  of  the  roasting  meat.  Since  the 
days  of  his  puppyhood  with  Challoner  a  smell  like 
that  which  came  from  the  meat  had  not  filled  Miki's 
nostrils,  and  at  last  Durant  saw  him  lick  his  chops 
and  heard  the  click  of  his  teeth.  He  chuckled  in 
his  beard.  Still  he  waited  another  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Then  he  pulled  the  meat  off  the  spit,  cut  it 
up,  and  gave  a  half  of  it  to  Miki.  And  Miki  ate  it 
ravenously. 
A  clever  man  was  Henri  Durant! 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

URING  the  last  few  days  in  December  all 
trails  for  ten  thousand  square  miles  around 
led  to  Post  Fort  O'  God.  It  was  the  eve 
of  Ooske  Pipoon — of  the  New  Year — the  mid-winter 
carnival  time  of  the  people  of  the  wilderness,  when 
from  teepees  and  cabins  far  and  near  come  the  trap- 
pers and  their  families  to  sell  their  furs  and  celebrate 
for  a  few  days  with  others  of  their  kind.  To  this 
New  Year  gathering  men,  women,  and  children  look 
forward  through  long  and  weary  months.  The 
trapper's  wife  has  no  neighbour.  Her  husband's 
"line"  is  a  little  kingdom  inviolate,  with  no  other 
human  life  within  many  miles  of  it;  so  for  the  women 
the  Ooske  Pipoon  is  a  time  of  rejoicing;  for  the  child- 
ren it  is  the  "big  circus,"  and  for  the  men  a  reward 
for  the  labour  and  hardship  of  catching  their  fur. 
During  these  few  days  old  acquaintanceships  are 
renewed  and  new  ones  are  made.  It  is  here  that  the 
"news"  of  the  trackless  wilderness  is  spread,  the 

237 


238  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

news  of  deaths,  of  marriages,  and  of  births;  of  tragic 
happenings  that  bring  horror  and  grief  and  tears, 
and  of  others  that  bring  laughter  and  joy.  For  the 
first  and  last  time  in  all  the  seven  months'  winter 
the  people  of  the  forests  "come  to  town."  Indian, 
half  breed,  "blood,"  and  white  man,  join  in  the  holi- 
day without  distinction  of  colour  or  creed. 

This  year  there  was  to  be  a  great  caribou  roast,  a 
huge  barbecue,  at  Fort  O'  God,  and  by  the  time 
Henri  Durant  came  within  half  a  dozen  miles  of  the 
Post  the  trails  from  north  and  south  and  east  and 
west  were  beaten  hard  by  the  tracks  of  dogs  and 
men.  That  year  a  hundred  sledges  came  in  from 
the  forests,  and  with  them  were  three  hundred  men 
and  women  and  children  and  half  a  thousand  dogs. 

Durant  was  a  day  later  than  he  had  planned  to 
be,  but  he  had  made  good  use  of  his  time.  For  Miki, 
while  still  muzzled,  now  followed  at  the  end  of  the 
babiche  that  was  tied  to  Henri's  sledge.  In  the 
afternoon  of  the  third  day  after  leaving  Nanette 
Le  Beau's  cabin  Durant  turned  off  the  main-travelled 
trail  until  he  came  to  the  shack  of  Andre  Ribon, 
who  kept  the  Factor  and  his  people  at  the  Post  sup- 
plied with  fresh  meat.  Andre,  who  was  becoming 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  239 

over-anxious  at  Durant's  delay,  was  still  waiting 
when  his  friend  came.  It  was  here  that  Henri's 
Indian  had  left  his  fighting  dog,  the  big  husky. 
And  here  he  left  Miki,  locked  in  Andre's  shack. 
Then  the  two  men  went  on  to  the  Post  which  was 
only  a  mile  away. 

Neither  he  nor  Ribon  returned  that  night.  The 
cabin  was  empty.  And  with  the  beginning  of  dusk 
Miki  began  to  hear  weird  and  strange  sounds  which 
grew  louder  as  darkness  settled  deeper.  It  was  the 
sound  of  the  carnival  at  the  Post — the  distant  tumult 
of  human  voice  mingled  with  the  howling  of  a  hun- 
dred dogs.  He  had  never  heard  anything  like  it 
before,  and  for  a  long  time  he  listened  without  mov- 
ing. Then  he  stood  up  like  a  man  before  the  window 
with  this  fore-paws  resting  against  the  heavy  sash. 
Ribon's  cabin  was  at  the  crest  of  a  knoll  that  over- 
looked the  frozen  lake,  and  far  off,  over  the  tops  of 
the  scrub  timber  that  fringed  the  edge  of  it,  Miki 
saw  the  red  glow  in  the  sky  made  by  a  score  of  great 
camp  fires.  He  whined,  and  dropped  on  his  four 
feet  again.  It  was  a  long  wait  between  that  and 
another  day.  But  the  cabin  was  more  comfortable 
than  Le  Beau's  prison-cage  had  been.  All  through 


240  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

the  night  his  restless  slumber  was  filled  with  visions 
of  Nanette  and  the  baby. 

Durant  and  Ribon  did  not  return  until  nearly 
noon  the  next  day.  They  brought  with  them  fresh 
meat,  of  which  Miki  ate  ravenously,  for  he  was 
hungry.  In  an  unresponsive  way  he  tolerated  the 
advances  of  these  two.  A  second  night  he  was  left 
alone  in  the  cabin.  When  Durant  and  Ribon  came 
back  again  in  the  early  dawn  they  brought  with 
them  a  cage  four  feet  square  made  of  small  birch 
saplings.  The  open  door  of  this  cage  they  drew 
close  to  the  door  of  the  cabin,  and  by  means  of  a 
chunk  of  fresh  meat  Miki  was  induced  to  enter 
through  it.  Instantly  the  trap  fell,  and  he  was  a 
prisoner.  The  cage  was  already  fastened  on  a  wide 
toboggan,  and  scarcely  was  the  sun  up  when  Miki 
was  on  his  way  to  Fort  O'  God. 

This  was  the  big  day  at  the  carnival — the  day  of 
the  caribou-roast  and  the  fight.  For  many  minutes 
before  they  came  in  sight  of  Fort  O*  God  Miki  heard 
the  growing  sound.  It  amazed  him,  and  he  stood 
up  on  his  feet  in  his  cage,  rigid  and  alert,  utterly 
unconscious  of  the  men  who  were  pulling  him. 
He  was  looking  ahead  of  them,  and  Durant  chuckled 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  241 

exultantly  as  they  heard  him  growl,  and  his  teeth 
click. 

"Oui,  he  will  fight!  He  would  fight  now"  he 
chuckled. 

They  were  following  the  shore  of  a  lake.  Sud- 
denly they  came  around  the  end  of  a  point,  and  all 
of  Fort  O'  God  lay  on  the  rising  shelf  of  the  shore 
ahead  of  them.  The  growl  died  in  Miki's  throat. 
His  teeth  shut  with  a  last  click.  For  an  instant 
his  heart  seemed  to  grow  dead  and  still.  Until  this 
moment  his  world  had  held  only  half  a  dozen  human 
beings.  Now,  so  suddenly  that  he  had  no  flash  of 
warning,  he  saw  a  hundred  of  them,  two  hundred, 
three  hundred.  At  sight  of  Durant  and  the  cage  a 
swarm  of  them  began  running  down  to  the  shore. 
And  everywhere  there  were  wolves,  so  many  of 
them  that  his  senses  grew  dazed  as  he  stared.  His 
cage  was  the  centre  of  a  clamouring,  gesticulating 
horde  of  men  and  boys  as  it  was  dragged  up  the 
slope.  Women  began  joining  the  crowd,  many  of 
them  with  small  children  in  their  arms.  Then  his 
journey  came  to  an  end.  He  was  close  to  another 
cage,  and  in  that  cage  was  a  beast  like  himself. 
Beside  this  cage  there  stood  a  tall,  swarthy,  shaggy- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

headed  halfbreed  who  looked  like  a  pirate.  The 
man  was  Grouse  Piet,  Durant's  rival. 

A  contemptuous  leer  was  on  his  thick-lipped  face 
as  he  looked  at  Miki.  He  turned,  and  to  the  group 
of  dark-faced  Indians  and  breeds  about  him  he  said 
something  that  roused  a  guttural  laugh. 

Durant's  face  flamed  red. 

"Laugh,  you  heathen,"  he  challenged,  "but  don't 
forget  that  Henri  Durant  is  here  to  take  your  bets!" 
Then  he  shook  the  two  cross  and  ten  red  foxes  in  the 
face  of  Grouse  Piet. 

"Cover  them,  Grouse  Piet,"  he  cried.  "And 
I  have  ten  times  more  where  they  came  from!" 

With  his  muzzle  lifted,  Miki  was  sniffing  the  air. 
It  was  filled  with  strange  scents,  heavy  with  the 
odours  of  men,  of  dogs,  and  of  the  five  huge  caribou 
roasting  on  their  spits  fifteen  feet  over  the  big  fires 
that  were  built  under  them.  For  ten  hours  those 
caribou  would  roast,  turning  slowly  on  spits  as  thick 
as  a  man's  leg.  The  fight  was  to  come  before  the 
feast. 

For  an  hour  the  clatter  and  tumult  of  voices 
hovered  about  the  two  cages.  Men  appraised  the 
fighters  and  made  their  bets,  and  Grouse  Piet  and 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  243 

Henri  Durant  made  their  throats  hoarse  flinging 
banter  and  contempt  at  each  other.  At  the  end 
of  the  hour  the  crowd  began  to  thin  out.  In  the 
place  of  men  and  women  half  a  hundred  dark-visaged 
little  children  crowded  about  the  cages.  It  was 
not  until  then  that  Miki  caught  glimpses  of  the 
hordes  of  beasts  fastened  in  ones  and  twos  and  groups 
in  the  edge  of  the  clearing.  His  nostrils  had  at  last 
caught  the  distinction.  They  were  not  wolves. 
They  were  like  himself. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  his  eyes  rested  steadily 
on  the  wolf-dog  in  the  other  cage.  He  went  to  the 
edge  of  his  bars  and  sniffed.  The  wolf-dog  thrust 
his  gaunt  muzzle  toward  him.  He  made  Miki 
think  of  the  huge  wolf  he  had  fought  one  day  on  the 
.edge  of  the  cliff,  and  instinctively  he  showed  his 
fangs,  and  snarled.  The  wolf-dog  snarled  back. 
Henri  Durant  rubbed  his  hands  exultantly,  and 
Grouse  Piet  laughed  softly. 

"Oui;  they  will  fight!"  said  Henri  again. 

"Ze  wolf,  he  will  fight,  oui"  said  Grouse  Piet. 
"But  your  dog,  m'sieu,  he  be  vair  seek,  lak  a  puppy, 
w'en  ze  fight  come!" 

A  little  later  Miki  saw  a  white  man  standing  close 


244  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

to  his  cage.  It  was  MacDonnell,  the  Scotch  factor. 
He  gazed  at  Miki  and  the  wolf-dog  with  troubled 
eyes.  Ten  minutes  later,  in  the  little  room  which 
he  had  made  his  office,  he  was  saying  to  a  younger 
man: 

"I'd  like  to  stop  it,  but  I  can't.  They  wouldn't 
stand  for  it.  It  would  lose  us  half  a  season's  catch 
of  fur.  There's  been  a  fight  like  this  at  Fort  O' 
God  for  the  last  fifty  years,  and  I  don't  suppose, 
after  all,  that  it's  any  worse  than  one  of  the  prize 
fights  down  there.  Only,  in  this  case " 

"They  kill,"  said  the  younger  man. 

"Yes,  that's  it.    Usually  one  of  the  dogs  dies." 

The  younger  man  knocked  the  ash  out  of  his 
pipe. 

"I  love  dogs,"  he  said,  simply.  " There'll  never  be 
a  fight  at  my  post,  Mac — unless  it's  between  men. 
And  I'm  not  going  to  see  this  fight,  because  I'm  afraid 
I'd  kill  some  one  if  I  did." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

IT  WAS  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The 
caribou  were  roasting  brown.  In  two  more  hours 
the  feast  would  begin.  The  hour  of  the  fight 
was  at  hand. 

In  the  centre  of  the  clearing  three  hundred  men, 
women,  and  children  were  gathered  in  a  close  circle 
about  a  sapling  cage  ten  feet  square.  Close  to  this 
cage,  one  at  each  side,  were  drawn  the  two  smaller 
cages.  Beside  one  of  these  cages  stood  Henri  Dur- 
ant;  beside  the  other,  Grouse  Piet.  They  were  not 
bantering  now.  Their  faces  were  hard  and  set. 
And  three  hundred  pairs  of  eyes  were  staring  at  them, 
and  three  hundred  pairs  of  ears  waiting  for  the  thrill- 
ing signal. 

It  came — from  Grouse  Piet. 

With  a  swift  movement  Durant  pulled  up  the  door 
of  MikTs  cage.  *  Then,  suddenly,  he  prodded  him 
from  behind  with  a  crotched  stick,  and  with  a  single 
leap  Miki  was  in  the  big  cage.  Almost  at  the  same 

245 


246  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

instant    the    wolf-dog    leapt    from    Grouse    Piet's 
cage,  and  the  two  faced  each  other  in  the  arena. 

With  the  next  breath  he  drew  Durant  could  have 
groaned.  What  happened  in  the  following  half 
minute  was  a  matter  of  environment  with  Miki. 
In  the  forest  the  wolf-dog  would  have  interested  him 
to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else,  and  he  would 
have  looked  upon  him  as  another  Netah  or  a  wild 
wolf.  But  in  his  present  surroundings  the  idea  of 
fighting  was  the  last  to  possess  him.  He  was  fas- 
cinated by  that  grim  and  waiting  circle  of  faces  clos- 
ing in  the  big  cage;  he  scrutinized  it,  turning  his 
head  sharply  from  point  to  point,  as  if  hoping  to  see 
Nanette  and  the  baby,  or  even  Challoner  his  first 
master.  To  the  wolf-dog  Grouse  Piet  had  given 
the  name  of  Taao,  because  of  the  extraordinary 
length  of  his  fangs;  and  of  Taao,  to  Durant's  growing 
horror,  Miki  was  utterly  oblivious  after  that  first 
head-on  glance.  He  trotted  to  the  edge  of  the  cage 
and  thrust  his  nose  between  the  bars,  and  a  taunting 
laugh  rose  out  of  Grouse  Piet's  throat.  Then  he 
began  making  a  circle  of  the  cage,  his  sharp  eyes  on 
the  silent  ring  of  faces.  Taao  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  cage,  and  not  once  did  his  reddish  eyes  leave 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  247 

Miki.  What  was  outside  of  the  cage  held  small 
interest  for  him.  He  understood  his  business,  and 
murder  was  bred  in  his  heart.  For  a  space  during 
which  Durant's  heart  beat  like  a  hammer  Taao 
turned,  as  if  on  a  pivot,  following  Miki's  movement, 
and  the  crest  on  his  spine  stood  up  like  bristles. 

Then  Miki  stopped,  and  in  that  moment  Durant 
saw  the  end  of  all  his  hopes.  Without  a  sound  the 
wolf-dog  was  at  his  opponent.  A  bellow  rose  from 
Grouse  Piet's  lips.  A  deep  breath  passed  through 
the  circle  of  spectators,  and  Durant  felt  a  cold  chill 
run  up  his  back  to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  What  hap- 
pened in  the  next  instant  made  men's  hearts  stand 
still.  In  that  first  rush  Miki  should  have  died. 
Grouse  Piet  expected  him  to  die,  and  Durant  ex- 
pected him  to  die.  But  in  the  last  fractional  bit  of 
the  second  in  which  the  wolf-dog's  jaws  closed, 
Miki  was  transformed  into  a  thing  of  living  lightning. 
No  man  had  ever  seen  a  movement  swifter  than  that 
with  which  he  turned  on  Taao.  Their  jaws  clashed. 
There  was  a  sickening  grinding  of  bone,  and  in  an- 
other moment  they  were  rolling  and  twisting  together 
on  the  earth  floor.  Neither  Grouse  Piet  nor  Dur- 
ant could  see  what  was  happening.  They  forgot 


248  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

even  their  own  bets  in  the  horror  of  that  fight. 
Never  had  there  been  such  a  fight  at  Fort  O'  God. 

The  sound  of  it  reached  to  the  Company's  store. 
In  the  door,  looking  toward  the  big  cage,  stood  the 
young  white  man.  He  heard  the  snarling,  the  clash- 
ing of  teeth,  and  his  jaws  set  heavily  and  a  dull  flame 
burned  in  his  eyes.  His  breath  came  in  a  sudden  gasp. 

"Damn!  "  he  cried,  softly. 

His  hands  clenched,  and  he  stepped  slowly  down 
from  the  door  and  went  toward  the  cage.  It  was 
over  when  he  made  his  way  through  the  ring  of 
spectators.  The  fight  had  ended  as  suddenly  as  it 
had  begun,  and  Grouse  Piet's  wolf-dog  lay  in  the 
centre  of  the  cage  with  a  severed  jugular.  Miki 
looked  as  though  he  might  be  dying.  Durant  had 
opened  the  door  and  had  slipped  a  rope  over  his 
head,  and  outside  the  cage  Miki  stood  swaying  on 
his  feet,  red  with  blood,  and  half  blind.  His  flesh 
was  red  and  bleeding  in  a  dozen  places,  and  a  stream 
of  blood  trickled  from  his  mouth.  A  cry  of  horror 
rose  to  the  young  white  man's  lips  as  he  looked  down 
at  him. 

And  then,  almost  in  the  same  breath,  there  came 
a  still  stranger  cry. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  249 

"Good  God!  Miki— Miki— Miki " 

Beating  upon  his  brain  as  if  from  a  vast  distance, 
coming  to  him  through  the  blindness  of  his  wounds, 
Miki  heard  that  voice. 

The  voice!  The  voice  that  had  lived  with  him  in 
all  his  dreams,  the  voice  he  had  waited  for,  and 
searched  for,  and  knew  that  some  day  he  would  find. 
The  voice  of  Challoner,  his  master! 

He  dropped  on  his  belly,  whining,  trying  to  see 
through  the  film  of  blood  in  his  eyes;  and  lying  there, 
wounded  almost  unto  death,  his  tail  thumped  the 
ground  in  recognition.  And  then,  to  the  amaze- 
ment of  all  who  beheld,  Challoner  was  down  upon  his 
knees  beside  him,  and  his  arms  were  about  him, 
and  Miki's  lacerated  tongue  was  reaching  for  his 
hands,  his  face,  his  clothes. 

"  Miki— Miki— Miki !" 

Durant's  hand  fell  heavily  upon  Challoner's 
shoulder. 

It  was  like  the  touch  of  a  red-hot  iron  to  Challoner. 
In  a  flash  he  was  on  his  feet,  facing  him. 

"He's  mine,"  Challoner  cried,  trying  to  hold  back 
his  passion.  "He's  mine  you — you  devil!" 

And  then,  powerless  to  hold  back  his  desire  for 


250  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

vengeance,  his  clenched  fist  swung  like  a  rock  to 
Durant's  heavy  jaw,  and  the  Frenchman  went  to 
the  ground.  For  a  moment  Challoner  stood  over 
him,  but  he  did  not  move.  Fiercely  he  turned  upon 
Grouse  Piet  and  the  crowd.  Miki  was  cringing  at 
his  feet  again.  Pointing  to  him,  Challoner  cried 
loudly,  so  all  could  hear. 

"He's  my  dog.  Where  this  beast  got  him  I 
don't  know.  But  he's  mine.  Look  for  yourselves! 
See — see  him  lick  my  hand.  Would  he  do  that  for 
him?  And  look  at  that  ear.  There's  no  other  ear 
in  all  the  north  cut  like  that.  I  lost  him  almost  a 
year  ago,  but  I'd  know  him  among  ten  thousand 
by  that  ear.  By  God! — if  I  had  known " 

He  elbowed  his  way  through  the  breeds  and  Indi- 
ans, leading  Miki  by  the  rope  Durant  had  slipped 
over  the  dog's  head.  He  went  to  MacDonnell, 
and  told  him  what  had  happened.  He  told  of  the 
preceding  spring,  and  of  the  accident  in  which  Miki 
and  the  bear  cub  were  lost  from  his  canoe  and 
swept  over  the  waterfall.  After  registering  his  claim 
against  whatever  Durant  might  have  to  say  he  went 
to  the  shack  in  which  he  was  staying  at  Fort  O'  God. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  251 

An  hour  later  Challoner  sat  with  Miki's  big  head 
between  his  two  hands,  and  talked  to  him.  He 
had  bathed  and  dressed  his  wounds,  and  Miki  could 
see.  His  eyes  were  on  his  master's  face,  and  his 
hard  tail  thumped  the  floor.  Both  were  oblivious  of 
the  sounds  of  the  revellers  outside;  the  cries  of  men, 
the  shouting  of  boys,  the  laughter  of  women,  and  the 
incessant  barking  of  dogs.  In  Challoner's  eyes  there 
was  a  soft  glow. 

"Miki,  old  boy,  you  haven't  forgotten  a  thing— 
not  a  dam*  thing,  have  you?  You  were  nothing  but 
an  onery-legged  pup  then,  but  you  didn't  forget! 
Remember  what  I  told  you,  that  I  was  going  to  take 
you  and  the  cub  down  to  the  Girl?  Do  you  re- 
member? The  Girl  I  said  was  an  angel,  and  'd 
love  you  to  death,  and  all  that?  Well,  I'm  glad 
something  happened — and  you  didn't  go.  It  wasn't 
the  same  when  I  got  back,  an'  she  wasn't  the  same, 
Miki.  Lord,  she'd  got  married,  and  had  two  kids! 
Think  of  that,  old  scout — two!  How  the  deuce 
could  she  have  taken  care  of  you  and  the  cub,  eh? 
And  nothing  else  was  the  same,  Boy.  Three  years 
in  God's  Country — up  here  where  you  burst  your 
lungs  just  for  the  fun  of  drinking  in  air — changed 


252  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

me  a  lot,  I  guess.  Inside  a  week  I  wanted  to  come 
back,  Miki,  Yessir,  I  was  sick  to  come  back.  So 
I  came.  And  we're  going  to  stick  now,  Miki. 
You're  going  with  me  up  to  that  new  Post  the  Com- 
pany has  given  me.  From  now  on  we're  pals. 
Understand,  old  scout,  we're  pals!  " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

IT  WAS  late  the  night  of  the  big  feast  at  Post 
Fort  O'  God  that  MacDonnell,  the  factor,  sent 
for  Challoner.  Challoner  was  preparing  for 
bed  when  an  Indian  boy  pounded  on  the  door  of  his 
shack  and  a  moment  later  gave  him  the  message. 
He  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  eleven  o'clock. 
What  could  the  Factor  want  of  him  at  that  hour,  he 
wondered?  Flat  on  his  belly  near  the  warm  box 
stove  Miki  watched  his  new-found  master  specula- 
tively  as  he  pulled  on  his  boots.  His  eyes  were  wide 
open  now.  Challoner  had  washed  from  him  the 
blood  of  the  terrific  fight  of  that  afternoon. 

"Something  to  do  with  that  devil  of  a  Durant," 
growled  Challoner,  looking  at  the  battle-scarred 
dog.  "Well,  if  he  hopes  to  get  you  again,  Miki, 
he's  barking  up  the  wrong  tree.  You're  mine!  " 

Miki  thumped  his  hard  tail  on  the  floor  and  wrig- 
gled toward  his  master  in  mute  adoration.  To- 
gether they  went  out  into  the  night. 

253 


254  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

It  was  a  night  of  white  moonlight  and  a  multitude 
of  stars.  The  four  great  fires  over  which  the  caribou 
had  roasted  for  the  savage  barbecue  that  day  were 
still  burning  brightly.  In  the  edge  of  the  forest 
that  ringed  in  the  Post  were  the  smouldering  embers 
of  a  score  of  smaller  fires.  Back  of  these  fires  were 
faintly  outlined  the  gray  shadows  of  teepees  and 
tents.  In  these  shelters  the  three  hundred  half- 
breeds  and  Indians  who  had  come  in  from  the  forest 
trails  to  the  New  Year  carnival  at  the  Post  were  sleep- 
ing. Only  here  and  there  was  there  a  movement  of 
life.  Even  the  dogs  were  quiet  after  the  earlier 
hours  of  excitement  and  gluttony. 

Past  the  big  fires,  with  their  huge  spits  still  stand- 
ing, Challoner  passed  toward  the  Factor's  quarters. 
Miki  sniffed  at  the  freshly  picked  bones.  Beyond 
these  bones  there  was  no  sign  of  the  two  thousand 
pounds  of  flesh  that  had  roasted  that  day  on  the 
spits.  Men,  women,  children,  and  dogs  had  stuffed 
themselves  until  there  was  nothing  left.  It  was 
the  silence  of  Mutai — the  "belly  god" — the  god  who 
eats  himself  to  sleep  each  night — that  hovered 
strangely  over  this  Post  of  Fort  O'  God,  three  hun- 
dred miles  from  civilization. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  255 

There  was  a  light  in  the  Factor's  room,  and  Chal- 
loner  entered  with  Miki  at  his  heels.  MacDonnell, 
the  Scotchman,  was  puffing  moodily  on  his  pipe. 
There  was  a  worried  look  in  his  ruddy  face  as  the 
younger  man  seated  himself,  and  his  eyes  were  on 
Miki. 

"Durant  has  been  here,"  he  said.  "He's  ugly. 
I'm  afraid  of  trouble.  If  you  hadn't  struck  him- " 

Challoner  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  filled  his 
own  pipe  from  the  Factor's  tobacco. 

"You  see — you  don't  just  understand  the  situa- 
tion at  Fort  O'  God,"  went  on  MacDonnell. 
"There's  been  a  big  dog  fight  here  at  New  Year  for 
the  last  fifty  years.  It's  become  a  part  of  history, 
a  part  of  Fort  O'  God  itself,  and  that's  why  in  my 
own  fifteen  years  here  I  haven't  tried  to  stop  it. 
I  believe  it  would  bring  on  a  sort  of — revolution. 
I'd  wager  a  half  of  my  people  would  go  to  another 
post  with  their  furs.  That's  why  all  the  sympathy 
seems  to  be  with  Durant.  Even  Grouse  Piet,  his 
rival,  tells  him  he's  a  fool  to  let  you  get  away  with 
him  that  way.  Durant  says  that  dog  is  his." 

MacDonnell  nodded  at  Miki,  lying  at  Challoner 's 
feet. 


256  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

"Then  he  lies,"  said  Challoner  quietly. 

"  He  says  he  bought  him  of  Jacques  Le  Beau." 

"Then  Le  Beau  sold  a  dog  that  didn't  belong  to 
him." 

For  a  moment  MacDonnell  was  silent.  Then  he 
said: 

"But  that  wasn't  what  I  had  you  come  over  for, 
Challoner.  Durant  told  me  something  that  froze 
my  blood  to-night.  Your  outfit  starts  for  your  post 
up  in  the  Reindeer  Lake  county  to-morrow,  doesn't 
it?" 

"In    the    morning." 

"Then  could  you,  with  one  of  my  Indians  and  a 
team,  arrange  to  swing  around  by  way  of  the  Jack- 
son's Knee?  You'd  lose  a  week,  but  you  could 
overtake  your  outfit  before  it  reached  the  Reindeer 
—and  it  would  be  a  mighty  big  favour  to  me. 
There's  a — a  hell  of  a  thing  happened  over  there." 

Again  he  looked  at  Miki. 

"Gawd!"  he  breathed. 

Challoner  waited.  He  thought  he  saw  a  shudder 
pass  through  the  Factor's  shoulders. 

"I'd  go  myself — I  ought  to,  but  this  frosted  lung 
of  mine  has  made  me  sit  tight  this  winter,  Challoner. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  257 

I  ought  to  go.  Why — (a  sudden  glow  shot  into  his 
eyes) — "I  knew  this  Nanette  Le  Beau  when  she 
was  50  high,  fifteen  years  ago.  I  watched  her  grow 
up,  Challoner.  If  I  hadn't  been  married — then — 
I'd  have  fallen  in  love  with  her.  Do  you  know  her, 
Challoner?  Did  you  ever  see  Nanette  Le  Beau?" 

Challoner  shook  his  head. 

"An  angel — if  God  ever  made  one,"  declared 
MacDonnell  through  his  red  beard.  "She  lived 
over  beyond  the  Jackson's  Knee  with  her  father. 
And  he  died,  froze  to  death  crossing  Red  Eye  Lake 
one  night.  I've  always  thought  Jacques  Le  Beau 
made  her  marry  him  after  that.  Or  else  she  didn't 
know,  or  was  crazed,  or  frightened  at  being  alone. 
Anyway,  she  married  him,  It  was  five  years  ago 
I  saw  her  last.  Now  and  then  I've  heard  things, 
but  I  didn't  believe — not  all  of  them.  I  didn't  be- 
lieve that  Le  Beau  beat  her,  and  knocked  her  down 
when  he  wanted  to.  I  didn't  believe  he  dragged 
her  through  the  snow  by  her  hair  one  day  until  she 
was  nearly  dead.  They  were  just  rumours,  and  he 
was  seventy  miles  away.  But  I  believe  them  now. 
Durant  came  from  their  place,  and  I  guess  he  told 
me  a  whole  lot  of  the  truth — to  save  that  dog." 


258  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Again  lie  looked  at  Miki. 

"You  see,  Durant  tells  me  that  Le  Beau  caught 
the  dog  in  one  of  his  traps,  took  him  to  his  cabin, 
and  tortured  him  into  shape  for  the  big  fight.  When 
Durant  came  he  was  so  taken  with  the  dog  that  he 
bought  him,  and  it  was  while  Le  Beau  was  driving 
the  dog  mad  in  his  cage  to  show  his  temper  that 
Nanette  interfered.  Le  Beau  knocked  her  down, 
and  then  jumped  on  her  and  was  pulling  her  hair  and 
choking  her  when  the  dog  went  for  him  and  killed 
him.  That's  the  story.  Durant  told  me  the  truth 
through  fear  that  I'd  have  the  dog  shot  if  he  was  an 
out-and-out  murderer.  And  that's  why  I  want  you 
to  go  by  way  of  the  Jackson's  Knee.  I  want  you  to 
investigate,  and  I  want  you  to  do  what  you  can  for 
Nanette  Le  Beau.  My  Indian  will  bring  her  back 
to  Fort  O'  God." 

With  Scotch  stoicism  MacDonnell  had  repressed 
whatever  excitement  he  may  have  felt.  He  spoke 
quietly.  But  the  curious  shudder  went  through  his 
shoulders  again.  Challoner  stared  at  him  in  blank 
amazement. 

"You  mean  to  say  that  Miki — this  dog — has  killed 
a  man?" 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  259 

"Yes.  He  killed  him,  Durant  says,  just  as  he 
killed  Grouse  Piet's  wolf-dog  in  the  big  fight  to-day. 
Ugh  !"  As  Challoner's  eyes  fell  slowly  upon  Miki, 
the  Factor  added :  "  But  Grouse  Piet's  dog  was  better 
than  the  man.  If  what  I  hear  about  Le  Beau  was 
true  he's  better  dead  than  alive.  Challoner,  if  you 
didn't  think  it  too  much  trouble,  and  could  go  that 
way — and  see  Nanette " 

"I'll  go,"  said  Challoner,  dropping  a  hand  to 
Miki's  head. 

For  half  an  hour  after  that  MacDonnell  told  him 
the  things  he  knew  about  Nanette  Le  Beau.  When 
Challoner  rose  to  go  the  Factor  followed  him  to  the 
door. 

"Keep  your  eyes  open  for  Durant,"  he  warned. 
"  That  dog  is  worth  more  to  him  than  all  his  winnings 
to-day,  and  they  say  his  stakes  were  big.  He  won 
heavily  from  Grouse  Piet,  but  the  halfbreed  is  thick 
with  him  now.  I  know  it.  So  watch  out." 

Out  in  the  open  space,  in  the  light  of  the  moon  and 
stars,  Challoner  stood  for  a  moment  with  Miki's 
forepaws  resting  against  his  breast.  The  dog's  head 
was  almost  on  a  level  with  his  shoulders. 

"D'ye  remember  when  you  fell  out  of  the  canoe, 


260  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Boy?"  he  asked  softly.  "Remember  how  you  V 
the  cub  were  tied  in  the  bow,  an'  you  got  to  scrapping 
and  fell  overboard  just  above  the  rapids?  Remem- 
ber? By  Jove!  those  rapids  pretty  near  got  me,  too. 
I  thought  you  were  dead,  sure — both  of  you.  I 
wonder  what  happened  to  the  cub?" 

Miki  whined  in  response,  and  his  whole  body 
trembled. 

"And  since  then  you've  killed  a  man,"  added 
Challoner,  as  if  he  still  could  not  quite  believe. 
"And  I'm  to  take  you  back  to  the  woman.  That's 
the  funny  thing  about  it.  You're  going  back  to  her, 
and  if  she  says  kill  you " 

He  dropped  Miki's  forefeet  and  went  on  to  the 
cabin.  At  the  threshold  a  low  growl  rose  in  Miki's 
throat.  Challoner  laughed,  and  opened  the  door. 
They  went  in,  and  the  dog's  growl  was  a  menacing 
snarl.  Challoner  had  left  his  lamp  burning  low,  and 
in  the  light  of  it  he  saw  Henri  Durant  and  Grouse 
Piet  waiting  for  him.  He  turned  up  the  wick,  and 
nodded. 

"Good  evening.    Pretty  late  for  a  call,  isn't  it?" 

Grouse  Piet's  stolid  face  did  not  change  its  ex- 
pression. It  struck  Challoner,  as  he  glanced  at 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  261 

him,  that  in  head  and  shoulders  he  bore  a  grotesque 
resemblance  to  a  walrus.  Durant's  eyes  were  dully 
ablaze.  His  face  was  swollen  where  Challoner  had 
struck  him.  Miki,  stiffened  to  the  hardness  of  a 
knot,  and  still  snarling  under  his  breath,  had  crawled 
under  Challoner's  bunk.  Durant  pointed  to  him. 

"We've  come  after  that  dog,"  he  said. 

"You  can't  have  him,  Durant,"  replied  Challoner, 
trying  hard  to  make  himself  appear  at  ease  in  a  situa- 
tion that  sent  a  chill  up  his  back.  As  he  spoke  he 
was  making  up  his  mind  why  Grouse  Piet  had  come 
with  Durant.  They  were  giants,  both  of  them; 
more  than  that — monsters.  Instinctively  he  had 
faced  them  with  the  small  table  between  them. 
"I'm  sorry  I  lost  my  temper  out  there,"  he  continued. 
"I  shouldn't  have  struck  you,  Durant.  It  wasn't 
your  fault — and  I  apologize.  But  the  dog  is  mine. 
I  lost  him  over  in  the  Jackson's  Knee  country,  and 
if  Jacques  Le  Beau  caught  him  in  a  trap,  and  sold 
him  to  you,  he  sold  a  dog  that  didn't  belong  to  him. 
I'm  willing  to  pay  you  back  what  you  gave  for  him, 
just  to  be  fair.  How  much  was  it?" 

Grouse  Piet  had  risen  to  his  feet.  Durant  came 
to  the  opposite  edge  of  the  table,  and  leaned  over  it. 


262  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

Challoner  wondered  how  a  single  blow  had  knocked 
him  down. 

"Non,  he  is  not  for  sale."  Durant's  voice  was 
low;  so  low  that  it  seemed  to  choke  him  to  get  it  out. 
It  was  filled  with  a  repressed  hatred.  Challoner 
saw  the  great  cords  of  his  knotted  hands  bulging 
under  the  skin  as  he  gripped  the  edge  of  the  table. 
"M'sieu,  we  have  come  for  that  dog.  Will  you  let 
us  take  him?" 

"I  will  pay  you  back  what  you  gave  for  him, 
Durant.  I  will  add  to  the  price." 

"Nan.    He  is  mine.    Will  you  give  him  back — 

o  99 

now  ? 

"No!" 

Scarcely  was  the  word  out  of  his  mouth  when 
Durant  flung  his  whole  weight  and  strength  against 
the  table.  Challoner  had  not  expected  the  move- 
just  yet.  With  a  bellow  of  rage  and  hatred  Durant 
was  upon  him,  and  under  the  weight  of  the  giant  he 
crashed  to  the  floor.  With  them  went  the  table 
and  lamp.  There  was  a  vivid  splutter  of  flame  and 
the  cabin  was  in  darkness,  except  where  the  moon- 
light flooded  through  the  one  window.  Challoner 
had  looked  for  something  different.  He  had  ex- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  263 

pected  Durant  to  threaten  before  he  acted,  and, 
sizing  up  the  two  of  them,  he  had  decided  to  reach 
the  edge  of  his  bunk  during  the  discussion.  Under 
the  pillow  was  his  revolver.  It  was  too  late  now. 
Durant  was  on  him,  fumbling  in  the  darkness  for 
his  throat,  and  as  he  flung  one  arm  upward  to  get 
a  hook  around  the  Frenchman's  neck  he  heard 
Grouse  Piet  throw  the  table  back.  The  next  instant 
they  were  rolling  in  the  moonlight  on  the  floor,  and 
Challoner  caught  a  glimpse  of  Grouse  Piet's  huge 
bulk  bending  over  them.  Durant's  head  was  twisted 
under  his  arm,  but  one  of  the  giant's  hands  had 
reached  his  throat.  The  half  breed  saw  this,  and 
he  cried  out  something  in  a  guttural  voice.  With  a 
tremendous  effort  Challoner  rolled  himself  and  his 
adversary  out  of  the  patch  of  light  into  darkness 
again.  Durant's  thick  neck  cracked.  Again  Grouse 
Piet  called  out  in  that  guttural,  questioning  voice. 
Challoner  put  every  ounce  of  his  energy  into  the 
crook  of  his  arm,  and  Durant  did  not  answer. 

Then  the  weight  of  Grouse  Piet  fell  upon  them,  and 
his  great  hands  groped  for  Challoner's  neck.  His 
thick  fingers  found  Durant's  beard  first,  then  fum- 
bled for  Challoner,  and  got  their  hold.  Ten  seconds 


264  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

of  their  terrific  grip  would  have  broken  his  neck. 
But  the  fingers  never  closed.  A  savage  cry  of  agony 
burst  from  Grouse  Piet's  lips,  and  with  that  cry, 
ending  almost  in  a  scream,  came  the  snap  of  great 
jaws  and  the  rending  snarl  of  fangs  in  the  darkness. 
Durant  heard,  and  with  a  great  heave  of  his  massive 
body  he  broke  free  from  Challoner's  grip,  and  leapt 
to  his  feet.  In  a  flash  Challoner  was  at  his  bunk, 
facing  his  enemies  with  the  revolver  in  his  hand. 

Everything  had  happened  quickly.  Scarcely  more 
than  a  minute  had  passed  since  the  overturning  of 
the  table,  and  now,  in  the  moment  when  the  situation 
had  turned  in  his  favour,  a  sudden  swift  and  sicken- 
ing horror  seized  upon  Challoner.  Bloody  and 
terrible  there  rose  before  him  the  one  scene  he  had 
witnessed  that  day  in  the  big  cage  where  Miki 
and  the  wolf-dog  had  fought.  And  there — in  that 
darkness  of  the  cabin — 

He  heard  a  moaning  cry  and  the  crash  of  a  body 
to  the  floor. 

"Miki,  Miki,"  he  cried.     "Here!     Here!" 

He  dropped  his  revolver  and  sprang  to  the  door, 
flinging  it  wide  open. 

"For  God's  sake  get  out!"  he  cried.      "Get  out!" 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  265 

A  bulk  dashed  past  him  into  the  night.  He  knew 
it  was  Durant.  Then  he  leapt  to  the  dark  shadows 
an  the  floor  and  dug  h'is  two  hands  into  the  loose 
hide  at  the  back  of  Miki's  neck,  dragging  him  back, 
and  shouting  his  name.  He  saw  Grouse  Piet  crawling 
toward  the  door.  He  saw  him  rise  to  his  feet,  sil- 
houetted for  a  moment  against  the  starlight,  and 
stagger  out  into  the  night.  And  then  he  felt  Miki's 
weight  slinking  down  to  the  floor,  and  under  his 
hands  the  dog's  muscles  grew  limp  and  saggy.  For 
two  or  three  minutes  he  continued  to  kneel  beside 
him  before  he  closed  the  cabin  door  and  lighted  an- 
other lamp.  He  set  up  the  overturned  table  and 
placed  the  lamp  on  it.  Miki  had  not  moved.  He  lay 
flat  on  his  belly,  his  head  between  his  f orepaws,  look- 
ing up  at  Challoner  with  a  mute  appeal  in  his  eyes. 

Challoner  reached  out  his  two  arms. 

"Miki!" 

In  an  instant  Miki  was  up  against  him,  his  forefeet 
against  his  breast,  and  with  his  arms  about  the  dog's 
shoulders  Challoner's  eyes  took  in  the  floor.  On  it 
were  wet  splashes  and  bits  of  torn  clothing. 

His  arms  closed  more  tightly. 

"Miki,  old  boy,  I'm  much  obliged,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 


f"  ~*^HE  next  morning  Challoner's  outfit  of  three 
teams  and  four  men  left  north  and  west  for 

-*-  the  Reindeer  Lake  country  on  the  journey 
to  his  new  post  at  the  mouth  of  the  Cochrane.  An 
hour  later  Challoner  struck  due  west  with  a  light 
sledge  and  a  five-dog  team  for  the  Jackson's  Knee. 
Behind  him  followed  one  of  MacDonnelTs  Indians 
with  the  team  that  was  to  bring  Nanette  to  Fort  O' 
God. 

He  saw  nothing  more  of  Durant  and  Grouse  Piet, 
and  accepted  MacDonnelFs  explanation  that  they 
had  undoubtedly  left  the  Post  shortly  after  their 
assault  upon  him  in  the  cabin.  No  doubt  their 
disappearance  had  been  hastened  by  the  fact  that  a 
patrol  of  the  Royal  Northwest  Mounted  Police  on 
its  way  to  York  Factory  was  expected  at  Fort  O* 
God  that  day. 

Not  until  the  final  moment  of  departure  was  Miki 
brought  from  the  cabin  and  tied  to  the  gee-bar  of 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  267 

Challoner's  sledge.  When  he  saw  the  five  dogs 
squatted  on  their  haunches  he  grew  rigid  and  the  old 
snarl  rose  in  his  throat.  Under  Challoner's  quieting 
words  he  quickly  came  to  understand  that  these 
beasts  were  not  enemies,  and  from  a  rather  suspicious 
toleration  of  them  he  very  soon  began  to  take  a  new 
sort  of  interest  in  them.  It  was  a  friendly  team, 
bred  in  the  south  and  without  the  wolf  strain. 

Events  had  come  to  pass  so  swiftly  and  so  vividly 
in  Miki's  life  during  the  past  twenty-four  hours 
that  for  many  miles  after  they  left  Fort  O'  God  his 
senses  were  in  an  unsettled  state  of  anticipation. 
His  brain  was  filled  with  a  jumble  of  strange  and 
thrilling  pictures.  Very  far  away,  and  almost  in- 
distinct, were  the  pictures  of  things  that  had  hap- 
pened before  he  was  made  a  prisoner  by  Jacques  Le 
Beau.  Even  the  memory  of  Neewa  was  fading  under 
the  thrill  of  events  at  Nanette's  cabin  and  at  Fort  O' 
God.  The  pictures  that  blazed  their  way  across  his 
brain  now  were  of  men,  and  dogs,  and  many  other 
things  that  he  had  never  seen  before.  His  world 
had  suddenly  transformed  itself  into  a  host  of  Henri 
Durants  and  Grouse  Piets  and  Jacques  Le  Beaus, 
two-legged  beasts  who  had  clubbed  him,  and  half 


268  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

killed  him,  and  who  had  made  him  fight  to  keep  the 
life  in  his  body.  He  had  tasted  their  blood  in  his 
vengeance.  And  he  watched  for  them  now.  The 
pictures  told  him  they  were  everywhere.  He  could 
imagine  them  as  countless  as  the  wolves,  and  as  he 
had  seen  them  crowded  round  the  big  cage  in  which 
he  had  slain  the  wolf-dog. 

In  all  of  this  excited  and  distorted  world  there  was 
only  one  Challoner,  and  one  Nanette,  and  one  baby. 
All  else  was  a  chaos  of  uncertainty  and  of  dark  men- 
ace. Twice  when  the  Indian  came  up  close  behind 
them  Miki  whirled  about  with  a  savage  snarl. 
Challoner  watched  him,  and  understood. 

Of  the  pictures  in  his  brain  one  stood  out  above  all 
others,  definite  ^and  unclouded,  and  that  was  the 
picture  of  Nanette.  Yes,  even  above  Challoner 

himself.    There  lived  in  him  the  consciousness  of 
« 

her  gentle  hands;  her  sweet,  soft  voice;  the  perfume 
of  her  hair  and  clothes  and  body — the  woman  of  her; 
and  a  part  of  the  woman — as  the  hand  is  a  part  of 
the  body — was  the  baby.  It  was  this  part  of  Miki 
that  Challoner  could  not  understand,  and  which 
puzzled  him  when  they  made  camp  that  night.  He 
sat  for  a  long  time  beside  the  fire  trying  to  bring 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  269 

back  the  old  comradeship  of  the  days  of  Miki's 
puppy  hood.  But  he  only  partly  succeeded.  Miki 
was  restive.  Every  nerve  in  his  body  seemed  on 
edge.  Again  and  again  he  faced  the  west,  and  always 
when  he  sniffed  the  air  in  that  direction  there  came 
a  low  whine  in  his  throat. 

That  night,  with  doubt  in  his  heart,  Challoner 
fastened  him  near  the  tent  with  a  tough  rope  of 
babiche. 

For  a  long  time  after  Challoner  had  gone  to  bed 
Miki  sat  on  his  haunches  close  to  the  spruce  to  which 
he  was  fastened.  It  must  have  been  ten  o'clock, 
and  the  night  was  so  still  that  the  snap  of  a  dying 
ember  in  the  fire  was  like  the  crack  of  a  whip  to 
his  ears.  Miki's  eyes  were  wide  open  and  alert.  Near 
the  slowly  burning  logs,  wrapped  in  his  thick  blan- 
kets, he  could  make  out  the  motionless  form  of  the 
Indian,  asleep.  Back  of  him  the  sledge-dogs  had 
wallowed  their  beds  in  the  snow  and  were  silent. 
The  moon  was  almost  straight  overhead,  and  a  mile 
or  two  away  a  wolf  pointed  his  muzzle  to  the  radiant 
glow  of  it  and  howled.  The  sound,  like  a  distant' 
calling  voice,  added  new  fire  to  the  growing  thrill  in 
Miki's  blood.  He  turned  in  the  direction  of  the 


270  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

wailing  voice.  He  wanted  to  call  back.  He  wanted 
to  throw  up  his  head  and  cry  out  to  the  forests, 
and  the  moon,  and  the  starlit  sky.  But  only  his 
jaws  clicked,  and  he  looked  at  the  tent  hi  which 
Challoner  was  sleeping.  He  dropped  down  upon  his 
belly  in  the  snow.  But  his  head  was  still  alert 
and  listening.  The  moon  had  already  begun  its 
westward  decline.  The  fire  burned  out  until  the 
logs  were  only  a  dull  and  slumbering  glow;  the 
hand  of  Challoner's  watch  passed  midnight,  and 
still  Mild  was  wide-eyed  and  restless  in  the  thrill  of 
the  thing  that  was  upon  him.  And  then  at  last 
The  Call  that  was  coming  to  him  from  out  of  the 
night  became  his  master,  and  he  gnawed  the  babiche 
in  two.  It  was  the  call  of  the  Woman — of  Nanette 
and  the  baby. 

In  his  freedom  Miki  sniffed  at  the  edge  of  Chal- 
loner's tent.  His  back  sagged.  His  tail  drooped. 
He  knew  that  in  this  hour  he  was  betraying  the 
master  for  whom  he  had  waited  so  long,  and  who 
had  lived  so  vividly  in  his  dreams.  It  was  not 
reasoning,  but  an  instinctive  oppression  of  fact.  He 
would  come  back.  That  conviction  burned  dully  in  his 
brain.  But  now — to-night — he  must  go.  He  slunk 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  271 

off  into  the  darkness.  With  the  stealth  of  a  fox 
he  made  his  way  between  the  sleeping  dogs.  Not 
until  he  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  camp  did 
he  straighten  out,  and  then  a  gray  and  fleeting  shadow 
he  sped  westward  under  the  light  of  the  moon. 

There  was  no  hesitation  in  the  manner  of  his  going. 
Free  of  the  pain  of  his  wounds,  strong-limbed,  deep- 
lunged  as  the  strongest  wolf  of  the  forests,  he  went 
on  tirelessly.  Rabbits  bobbing  out  of  his  path  did 
not  make  him  pause;  even  the  strong  scent  of  a 
fisher-cat  almost  under  his  nose  did  not  swerve 
him  a  foot  from  his  trail.  Through  swamp  and 
deep  forest,  over  lake  and  stream,  across  open 
barren  and  charred  burns  his  unerring  sense  of 
orientation  led  him  on.  Once  he  stopped 'to  drink 
where  the  swift  current  of  a  creek  kept  the  water 
open.  Even  then  he  gulped  in  haste — and  shot 
on.  The  moon  drifted  lower  and  lower  until  it 
sank  into  oblivion.  The  stars  began  to  fade  away. 
The  little  ones  went  out,  and  the  big  ones  grew  sleepy 
and  dull.  A  great  snow-ghostly  gloom  settled  over 
the  forest  world. 

In  the  six  hours  between  midnight  and  dawn  he 
covered  thirty -five  miles. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

And  then  he  stopped.  Dropping  on  his  belly 
beside  a  rock  at  the  crest  of  a  ridge  he  watched  the 
birth  of  day.  With  drooling  jaws  and  panting 
breath  he  rested,  until  at  last  the  dull  gold  of  the 
winter  sun  began  to  paint  the  eastern  sky.  And 
then  came  the  first  bars  of  vivid  sunlight,  shooting 
over  the  eastern  ramparts  as  guns  flash  from  behind 
their  battlements,  and  Miki  rose  to  his  feet  and 
surveyed  the  morning  wonder  of  his  world.  Behind 
him  was  Fort  O'  God,  fifty  miles  away;  ahead  of 
him  the  cabin — twenty.  It  was  the  cabin  he  faced 
as  he  went  down  from  the  ridge. 

As  the  miles  between  him  and  the  cabin  grew 
fewer  and  fewer  he  felt  again'something  of  the  oppres- 
sion that  had  borne  upon  him  at  Challoner's  tent. 
And  yet  it  was  different.  He  had  run  his  race. 
He  had  answered  The  Call.  And  now,  at  the  end, 
he  was  seized  by  a  fear  of  what  his  welcome  would 
be.  For  at  the  cabin  he  had  killed  a  man — and  the 
man  had  belonged  to  the  woman.  His  progress  be- 
came more  hesitating.  Mid-forenoon  found  him 
only  half  a  mile  from  the  home  of  Nanette  and  the 
baby.  His  keen  nostrils  caught  the  faint  tang  of 
smoke  in  the  air.  He  did  not  follow  it  up,  but  cir- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  273 

cled  like  a  wolf,  coming  up  stealthily  and  uncertainly 
until  at  last  he  looked  out  into  the  little  clearing 
where  a  new  world  had  come  into  existence  for  him. 
He  saw  the  sapling  cage  in  which  Jacques  Le  Beau 
had  kept  him  a  prisoner;  the  door  of  that  cage  was 
still  open,  as  Durant  had  left  it  after  stealing  him; 
he  saw  the  ploughed-up  snow  where  he  had  leapt 
upon  the  man-brute — and  he  whined. 

He  was  facing  the  cabin  door — and  the  door  was 
wide  open.  He  could  see  no  life,  but  he  could 
smell  it.  And  smoke  was  rising  from  the  chimney. 
He  slunk  across  the  open.  In  the  manner  of  his 
going  there  was  an  abject  humiliation — a  plea  for 
mercy  if  he  had  done  wrong,  a  prayer  to  the  creatures 
he  worshipped  that  he  might  not  be  driven  away. 

He  came  to  the  door,  and  peered  in.  The  room 
was  empty.  Nanette  was  not  there.  Then  his 
ears  shot  forward  and  his  body  grew  suddenly  tense, 
and  he  listened,  listened,  listened  to  a  soft,  cooing 
sound  that  was  coming  from  the  crib.  He  swallowed 
hard;  the  faintest  whine  rose  in  his  throat  and  his 
claws  clicked,  clicked,  clicked,  across  the  floor  and  he 
thrust  his  great  head  over  the  side  of  the  little  bed. 
The  baby  was  there.  With  his  warm  tongue  he 


274  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

kissed  it — just  once — and  then,  with  another  deep 
breath,  lay  down  on  the  floor. 

He  heard  footsteps.  Nanette  came  in  with  her 
arms  filled  with  blankets;  she  carried  these  into  the 
smaller  room,  and  returned,  before  she  saw  him. 
For  a  moment  she  stared.  Then,  with  a  strange  little 
cry,  she  ran  to  him;  and  once  more  he  felt  her  arms 
about  him;  and  he  cried  like  a  puppy  with  his  muzzle 
against  her  breast,  and  Nanette  laughed  and  sobbed, 
and  in  the  crib  the  baby  kicked  and  squealed  and 
thrust  her  tiny  moccasined  feet  up  into  the  air. 

" A o-oo  tap-wa-mukun"  ("When  the  devil  goes 
heaven  comes  in,")  say  the  Crees.  And  with  the 
death  of  Le  Beau,  her  husband,  the  devil  had  gone 
out  of  life  for  Nanette.  She  was  more  beautiful 
than  ever.  Heaven  was  in  the  dark,  pure  glow  of 
her  eyes.  She  was  no  longer  like  a  dog  under  the 
club  and  the  whip  of  a  brute,  and  in  the  re-birth  of 
her  soul  she  was  glorious.  Youth  had  come  back 
to  her — freed  from  the  yoke  of  oppression.  She  was 
happy.  Happy  with  her  baby,  with  freedom,  with 
the  sun  and  the  stars  shining  for  her  again;  and  with 
new  hope,  the  greatest  star  of  all.  Again  on  the 
night  of  that  first  day  of  his  return  Miki  crept  up  to 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  275 

her  when  she  was  brushing  her  glorious  hair.  He 
loved  to  put  his  muzzle  in  it;  he  loved  the  sweet 
scent  of  it;  he  loved  to  put  his  head  on  her  knees 
and  feel  it  smothering  him.  And  Nanette  hugged 
him  tight,  even  as  she  hugged  the  baby,  for  it  was 
Miki  who  had  brought  her  freedom,  and  hope,  and 
life.  What  had  passed  was  no  longer  a  tragedy.  It 
was  justice.  God  had  sent  Miki  to  do  for  her  what 
a  father  or  a  brother  would  have  done. 

And  the  second  night  after  that,  when  Challoner 
came  early  in  the  darkness,  it  happened  that  Nanette 
had  her  hair  down  in  that  same  way;  and  Chal- 
loner, seeing  her  thus,  with  the  lampglow  shining  in 
her  eyes,  felt  that  the  world  had  taken  a  sudden 
swift  turn  under  his  feet — that  through  all  his  years 
he  had  been  working  forward  to  this  hour. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

WITH  the  coming  of  Challoner  to  the  cabin 
of  Nanette  Le  Beau  there  was  no  longer  a 
shadow  of  gloom  in  the  world  for  Miki. 
He  did  not  reason  out  the  wonder  of  it,  nor  did  he 
have  a  foreboding  for  the  future.  It  was  the  present 
in  which  he  lived — the  precious  hours  in  which  all 
the  creatures  he  had  ever  loved  were  together. 
And  yet,  away  back  in  his  memory  of  those  things 
that  had  grown  deep  in  his  soul,  was  the  picture  of 
Neewa,  the  bear;  Neewa,  his  chum,  his  brother,  his 
fighting  comrade  of  many  battles,  and  he  thought  of 
the  cold  and  snow-smothered  cavern  at  the  top  of 
the  ridge  in  which  Neewa  had  buried  himself  in 
that  long  and  mysterious  sleep  that  was  so  much 
like  death.  But  it  was  in  the  present  that  he  lived. 
The  hours  lengthened  themselves  out  into  days, 
and  still  Challoner  did  not  go,  nor  did  Nanette  leave 
with  the  Indian  for  Fort  O'  God.  The  Indian  re- 
turned with  a  note  for  MacDonnell  in  which  Challoner 

276 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  277 

told  the  Factor  that  something  was  the  matter  with 
the  baby's  lungs,  and  that  she  could  not  travel  until 
the  weather,  which  was  intensely  cold,  grew  warmer. 
He  asked  that  the  Indian  be  sent  back  with  certain 
supplies. 

In  spite  of  the  terrific  cold  which  followed  the 
birth  of  the  new  year  Challoner  had  put  up  his  tent 
in  the  edge  of  the  timber  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
cabin,  and  Miki  divided  his  time  between  the  cabin 
and  the  tent.  For  him  they  were  glorious  days. 
And  for  Challoner 

In  a  way  Miki  saw,  though  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  comprehend.  As  the  days  lengthened  into  a 
week,  and  the  week  into  two,  there  was  something 
in  the  glow  of  Nanette's  eyes  that  had  never  been 
there  before,  and  in  the  sweetness  of  her  voice  a  new 
thrill,  and  in  her  prayers  at  night  the  thankfulness 
of  a  new  and  great  joy. 

And  then,  one  day,  Miki  looked  up  from  where  he 
was  lying  beside  the  baby's  crib  and  he  saw  Nanette 
in  his  master's  arms,  her  face  turned  up  to  him,  her 
eyes  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  stars,  and  Challoner 
was  saying  something  which  transformed  her  face 
into  the  face  of  an  angel.  Miki  was  puzzled.  And 


278  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

he  was  more  puzzled  when  Challoner  came  from 
Nanette  to  the  crib,  and  snuggled  the  baby  up  in  his 
arms;  and  the  woman — looking  at  them  both  for  a 
moment  with  that  wonderful  look  in  her  eyes — sud- 
denly covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed. 
Half  a  snarl  rose  in  Miki's  throat,  but  in  that  mo- 
ment Challoner  had  put  his  arm  around  Nanette  too, 
and  Nanette's  arms  were  about  him  and  the  baby, 
and  she  was  sobbing  something  which  for  the  life 
of  him  Miki  could  make  neither  head  nor  tail  of. 
And  yet  he  knew  that  he  must  not  snarl  or  spring. 
He  felt  the  wonder-thrill  of  the  new  thing  that  had 
come  into  the  cabin;  he  gulped  hard,  and  looked. 
A  moment  or  two  later  Nanette  was  on  her  knees 
beside  him,  and  her  arms  were  around  him,  just  as 
they  had  been  around  the  man.  And  Challoner  was 
dancing  like  a  boy — cooing  to  the  baby  in  his  arms. 
Then  he,  too,  dropped  down  beside  Miki,  and  cried: 

"  My  Gawd !     MM— I've  got  a  fam'ly!  " 

And  Miki  tried  to  understand. 

That  night,  after  supper,  he  saw  Challoner  unbraid 
Nanette's  glorious  hair,  and  brush  it.  They  laughed 
like  two  happy  children.  Miki  tried  still  harder  to 
understand. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  279 

When  Challoner  went  to  go  to  his  tent  in  the  edge 
of  the  forest  he  took  Nanette  in  his  arms,  and  kissed 
her,  and  stroked  her  shining  hair;  and  Nanette  took 
his  face  between  her  hands  and  smiled  and  almost 
cried  in  her  joy. 

After  that  Miki  did  understand.  He  knew  that 
happiness  had  come  to  all  who  were  in  that  cabin. 

Now  that  his  world  was  settled,  Miki  took  once 
more  to  hunting.  The  thrill  of  the  trail  came  back 
to  him,  and  wider  and  wider  grew  his  range  from  the 
cabin.  Again  he  followed  Le  Beau's  old  traplme. 
But  the  traps  were  sprung  now.  He  had  lost  a  great 
deal  of  his  old  caution.  He  had  grown  fatter.  He 
no  longer  scented  danger  in  every  whiff  of  the  wind. 
It  was  in  the  third  week  of  Challoner's  stay  at  the 
cabin,  the  day  which  marked  the  end  of  the  cold  spell 
and  the  beginning  of  warm  weather,  that  Miki  came 
upon  an  old  dead-fall  in  a  swamp  a  full  ten  miles 
from  the  clearing.  Le  Beau  had  set  it  for  lynx, 
but  nothing  had  touched  the  bait,  which  was  a 
chunk  of  caribou  flesh,  frozen  solid  as  a  rock.,  Cu- 
riously Miki  began  smelling  of  it.  He  no  longer 
feared  danger.  Menace  had  gone  out  of  his  world. 
He  nibbled.  He  pulled — and  the  log  crashed  down 


280  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

to  break  his  back.  Only  by  a  little  did  it  fail.  For 
twenty-four  hours  it  held  him  helpless  and  crippled. 
Then,  fighting  through  all  those  hours,  he  dragged 
himself  out  from  under  it.  With  the  rising  temper- 
ature a  soft  snow  had  fallen,  covering  all  tracks  and 
trails.  Through  this  snow  Miki  dragged  himself, 
leaving  a  path  like  that  of  an  otter  in  the  mud,  for 
his  hind  quarters  were  helpless.  His  back  was  not 
broken;  it  was  temporarily  paralyzed  by  the  blow 
and  the  weight  of  the  log. 

He  made  in  the  direction  of  the  cabin,  but  every 
foot  that  he  dragged  himself  was  filled  with  agony, 
and  his  progress  was  so  slow  that  at  the  end  of  an 
hour  he  had  not  gone  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
Another  night  found  him  less  than  two  miles  from 
the  deadfall.  He  pulled  himself  under  a  shelter  of 
brush  and  lay  there  until  dawn.  All  through  that 
day  he  did  not  move.  The  next,  which  was  the 
fourth  since  he  had  left  the  cabin  to  hunt,  the  pain 
in  his  back  was  not  so  great.  But  he  could  pull 
himself  through  the  snow  only  a  few  yards  at  a  time. 
Again  the  good  spirit  of  the  forests  favoured  him 
for  in  the  afternoon  he  came  upon  the  partly  eaten 
carcass  of  a  buck  killed  by  the  wolves.  The  flesh 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  281 

was  frozen  but  he  gnawed  at  it  ravenously.  Then 
he  found  himself  a  shelter  under  a  mass  of  fallen 
tree-tops,  and  for  ten  days  thereafter  he  lay  be- 
tween life  and  death.  He  would  have  died  had  it 
not  been  for  the  buck.  To  the  carcass  he  managed 
to  drag  himself,  sometimes  each  day  and  sometimes 
every  other  day,  and  kept  himself  from  starving. 
It  was  the  end  of  the  second  week  before  he  could 
stand  well  on  his  feet.  The  fifteenth  day  he  re- 
turned to  the  cabin. 

In  the  edge  of  the  clearing  there  fell  upon  him 
slowly  a  foreboding  of  great  change.  The  cabin 
was  there.  It  was  no  different  than  it  had  been 
fifteen  days  ago.  But  out  of  the  chimney  there 
came  no  smoke,  and  the  windows  were  white  with 
frost.  About  it  the  snow  lay  clean  and  white,  like 
an  unspotted  sheet.  He  made  his  way  hesitatingly 
across  the  clearing  to  the  door.  There  were  no 
tracks.  Drifted  snow  was  piled  high  over  the  sill. 
He  whined,  and  scratched  at  the  door.  There  was 
no  answer.  And  he  heard  no  sound. 

He  went  back  into  the  edge  of  the  timber,  and 
waited.  He  waited  all  through  that  day,  going 
occasionally  to  the  cabin,  and  smelling  about  it,  to 


282  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

convince  himself  that  he  had  not  made  a  mistake. 
When  darkness  came  he  hollowed  himself  out  a  bed 
in  the  fresh  snow  close  to  the  door  and  lay  there  all 
through  the  night.  Day  came  again,  gray  and  empty 
and  still  there  was  no  smoke  from  the  chimney  or 
sound  from  within  the  log  walls,  and  at  last  he  knew 
that  Challoner  and  Nanette  and  the  baby  were  gone. 
But  he  was  hopeful.  He  no  longer  listened  for 
sound  from  within  the  cabin,  but  watched  and  lis- 
tened for  them  to  come  from  out  of  the  forest.  He 
made  short  quests,  hunting  now  on  this  side  and 
now  on  that  of  the  cabin,  sniffing  futilely  at  the  fresh 
and  trackless  snow  and  pointing  the  wind  for  minutes 
at  a  time.  In  the  afternoon,  with  a  forlorn  slouch 
to  his  body,  he  went  deeper  into  the  forest  to  hunt 
for  a  rabbit.  When  he  had  killed  and  eaten  his 
supper  he  returned  again  and  slept  a  second  night 
in  the  burrow  beside  the  door.  A  third  day  and  a 
third  night  he  remained,  and  the  third  night  he 
heard  the  wolves  howling  under  a  clear  and  star- 
filled  sky,  and  from  him  there  came  his  first  cry— 
a  yearning,  grief -filled  cry  that  rose  wailingly  out  of 
the  clearing;  the  entreaty  for  his  master,  for  Nanette, 
and  the  baby.  It  was  not  an  answer  to  the  wolves. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  283 

In  its  note  there  was  a  trembling  fear,  the  voicing  of 
a  thing  that  had  grown  into  hopelessness. 

And  now  there  settled  upon  him  a  loneliness  greater 
than  any  loneliness  he  had  ever  known.  Something 
seemed  to  whisper  to  his  canine  brain  that  all  he 
had  seen  and  felt  had  been  but  a  dream,  and  that 
he  was  face  to  face  with  his  old  world  again,  its 
dangers,  its  vast  and  soul-breaking  emptiness,  its 
friendlessness,  its  ceaseless  strife  for  existence.  His 
instincts,  dulled  by  the  worship  of  what  the  cabin 
had  held,  became  keenly  alive.  He  sensed  again 
the  sharp  thrill  of  danger,  which  comes  of  alonbness, 
and  his  old  caution  fell  upon  him,  so  that  the  fourth 
day  he  slunk  around  the  edge  of  the  clearing  like  a 
wolf. 

The  fifth  night  he  did  not  sleep  in  the  clearing  but 
found  himself  a  windfall  a  mile  back  in  the  forest. 
That  night  he  had  strange  and  troubled  dreams. 
They  were  not  of  Challoner,  or  of  Nanette  and  the 
baby,  nor  were  they  of  the  fight  and  the  unforgettable 
things  he  had  seen  at  the  Post.  His  dreams  were 
of  a  high  and  barren  ridge  smothered  in  deep  snow, 
and  of  a  cavern  that  was  dark  and  deep.  Again 
he  was  with  his  brother  and  comrade  of  days  that 


284  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

were  gone — Neewa  the  bear.  He  was  trying  to 
waken  him,  and  he  could  feel  the  warmth  of  his  body 
and  hear  his  sleepy,  protesting  grunts.  And  then, 
later,  he  was  fighting  again  in  the  paradise  of  black 
currants,  and  with  Neewa  was  running  for  his  life 
from  the  enraged  she-bear  who  had  invaded  their 
coulee.  When  he  awoke  suddenly  from  out  of  these 
dreams  he  was  trembling  and  his  muscles  were  tense. 
He  growled  in  the  darkness.  His  eyes  were  round 
balls  of  searching  fire.  He  whined  softly  and  yearn- 
ingly in  that  pit  of  gloom  under  the  windfall,  and 
for  a'moment  or  two  he  listened,  for  he  thought  that 
Neewa  might  answer. 

For  a  month  after  that  night  he  remained  near  the 
cabin.  At  least  once  each  day,  and  sometimes  at 
night,  he  would  return  to  the  clearing.  And  more 
and  more  frequently  he  was  thinking  of  Neewa. 
Early  in  March  came  the  Tiki-Swao — (the  Big 
Thaw).  For  a  week  the  sun  shone  without  a  cloud 
in  the  sky.  The  air  was  warm.  The  snow  turned 
soft  underfoot  and  on  the  sunny  sides  of  slopes  and 
ridges  it  melted  away  into  trickling  streams  or  rolled 
down  in  "slides"  that  were  miniature  avalanches. 
The  world  was  vibrant  with  a  new  thrill.  It  pulsed 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  285 

with  the  growing  heart-beat  of  spring,  and  in  Miki's 
soul  there  arose  slowly  a  new  hope,  a  new  impression 
a  new  inspiration  that  was  the  thrilling  urge  of  a 
wonderful  instinct.  Neewa  would  be  waking  now  ! 

It  came  to  him  at  last  like  a  voice  which  he  could 
understand.  The  trickling  music  of  the  growing 
streams  sang  it  to  him;  he  heard  it  in  the  warm  winds 
that  were  no  longer  filled  with  the  blast  of  winter; 
he  caught  it  in  the  new  odours  that  were  rising  out 
of  the  earth;  he  smelled  it  in  the  dank,  sweet  perfume 
of  the  black  woods-soil.  The  thing  thrilled  him. 
It  called  him.  And  he  knew  ! 

NEEWA  WOULD  BE  WAKING  NOW! 

He  responded  to  the  call.  It  was  in  the  nature  of 
things  that  no  power  less  than  physical  force  could 
hold  him  back.  And  yet  he  did  not  travel  as  he  had 
travelled  from  Challoner's  camp  to  the  cabin  of 
Nanette  and  the  baby.  There  had  been  a  definite 
object  there,  something  to  achieve,  something  to 
spur  him  on  to  an  immediate  fulfilment.  Now  the 
thing  that  drew  him,  at  first,  was  an  overpowering 
impulse,  not  a  reality.  For  two  or  three  days  his 
trail  westward  was  wandering  and  indefinite.  Then 
it  straightened  out,  and  early  in  the  morning  of  the 


286  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

fifth  day  he  came  from  a  deep  forest  Into  a  plain, 
and  across  that  plain  he  saw  the  ridge.  For  a  long 
time  he  gazed  over  the  level  space  before  he  went  on. 

In  his  brain  the  pictures  of  Neewa  were  becoming 
clearer  and  clearer.  After  all,  it  seemed  only  yester- 
day or  the  day  before  that  he  had  gone  away  from 
that  ridge.  Then  it  was  smothered  in  snow,  and  a 
gray,  terrible  gloom  had  settled  upon  the  earth. 
Now  there  was  but  little  snow,  and  the  sun  was 
shining,  and  the  sky  was  blue  again.  He  went  on, 
and  sniffed  along  the  foot  of  the  ridge;  he  had  not 
forgotten  the  way.  He  was  not  excited,  because 
time  had  ceased  to  have  definite  import  for  him. 
Yesterday  he  had  come  down  from  that  ridge,  and 
to-day  he  was  going  back.  He  went  straight  to 
the  mouth  of  Neewa's  den,  which  was  uncovered 
now,  and  thrust  in  his  head  and  shoulders,  and  sniffed. 
Ah!  but  that  lazy  rascal  of  a  bear  was  a  sleepy- 
head! He  was  still  sleeping.  Miki  could  smell 
him.  Listening  hard,  he  could  hear  him. 

He  climbed  over  the  low  drift  of  snow  that  had 
packed  itself  in  the  neck  of  the  cavern  and  entered 
confidently  into  the  darkness.  He  heard  a  soft, 
sleepy  grunt  and  a  great  sigh.  He  almost  stumbled 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  287 

over  Neewa,  who  had  changed  his  bed.  Again 
Neewa  grunted,  and  Miki  whined.  He  ran  his 
muzzle  into  Neewa's  fresh,  new  coat  of  spring  fur 
and  smelled  his  way  to  Neewa's  ear.  After  all,  it 
was  only  yesterday!  And  he  remembered  every- 
thing now!  So  he  gave  Neewa's  ear  a  sudden  sharp 
nip  with  his  teeth,  and  then  he  barked  in  that  low, 
throaty  way  that  Neewa  had  always  understood. 

"Wake  up,  Neewa,"  it  all  said.  "Wake  up! 
The  snow  is  gone,  and  it's  fine  out  to-day.  Wake 
up!" 

And  Neewa,  stretching  himself,  gave  a  great  yawn. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 

MESHABA,  the  old  Cree,  sat  on  the  sunny 
side  of  a  rock  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  slope 
that  looked  up  and  down  the  valley. 
Meshaba — who  many,  many  years  ago  had  been 
called  The  Giant — was  very  old.  He  was  so  old 
that  even  the  Factor's  books  over  at  Fort  O'  God  had 
no  record  of  his  birth;  nor  the  "post  logs"  at  Albany 
House,  or  Cumberland  House,  or  Norway  House, 
or  Fort  Churchill.  Perhaps  farther  north,  at  Lac 
La  Biche,  at  Old  Fort  Resolution,  or  at  Fort  McPher- 
son  some  trace  of  him  might  have  been  found.  His 
skin  was  crinkled  and  weather-worn,  like  dry  buck- 
skin, and  over  his  brown,  thin  face  his  hair  fell  to 
his  shoulders,  snow-white.  His  hands  were  thin, 
even  his  nose  was  thin  with  the  thinness  of  age. 
But  his  eyes  were  still  like  dark  garnets,  and  down 
through  the  greater  part  of  a  century  their  vision 
had  come  undimmed. 

They  roved  over  the  valley  now.    At  Meshaba's 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  289 

back,  a  mile  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge,  was  the 
old  trapper's  cabin,  where  he  lived  alone.  The 
winter  had  been  long  and  cold,  and  in  his  gladness 
at  the  coming  of  spring  Meshaba  had  come  up  the 
ridge  to  bask  in  the  sun  and  look  out  over  the  chang- 
ing world.  For  an  hour  his  eyes  had  travelled  up 
and  down  the  valley  like  the  eyes  of  an  old  and  wary 
hawk.  The  dark  spruce  and  cedar  forest  edged 
in  the  far  side  of  the  valley;  between  that  and  the 
ridge  rolled  the  meadowy  plain — still  covered  with 
melting  snow  in  places,  and  in  others  bare  and  glow- 
ing, a  dull  green  in  the  sunlight.  From  where  he 
sat  Meshaba  could  also  see  a  rocky  scarp  of  the  ridge 
that  projected  out  into  the  plain  a  hundred  yards 
away.  But  this  did  not  interest  him,  except  that 
if  it  had  not  been  in  his  line  of  vision  he  could  have 
seen  a  mile  farther  down  the  valley. 

In  that  hour  of  Sphinx-like  watching,  while  the 
smoke  curled  slowly  up  from  his  black  pipe,  Meshaba 
had  seen  life.  Half  a  mile  from  where  he  was  sitting 
a  band  of  caribou  had  come  out  of  the  timber  and 
wandered  into  a  less  distant  patch  of  low  bush. 
They  had  not  thrilled  his  old  blood  with  the  desire 
to  kill,  for  there  was  already  a  fresh  carcass  hung  up 


290  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

at  the  back  of  his  cabin.  Still  farther  away  he  had 
seen  a  hornless  moose,  so  grotesque  in  its  spring 
ugliness  that  the  parchment-like  skin  of  his  face  had 
cracked  for  half  an  instant  in  a  smile,  and  out  of  him 
had  come  a  low  and  appreciative  grunt;  for  Meshaba, 
in  spite  of  his  age,  still  had  a  sense  of  humour  left. 
Once  he  had  seen  a  wolf,  and  twice  a  fox,  and  now 
his  eyes  were  on  an  eagle  high  over  his  head.  Me- 
shaba would  not  have  shot  that  eagle,  for  year  after 
year  it  had  come  down  through  time  with  him,  and 
it  was  always  there  soaring  in  the  sun  when  spring 
came.  So  Meshaba  grunted  as  he  watched  it,  and 
was  glad  that  Upisk  had  not  died  during  the  winter. 

"Kata  y  ati  sisew"  he  whispered  to  himself,  a  glow 
of  superstition  in  his  fiery  eyes.  "We  have  lived 
long  together,  and  it  is  fated  that  we  die  together, 
Oh  Upisk.  The  spring  has  come  for  us  many  times, 
and  soon  the  black  winter  will  swallow  us  up  for  ever." 

His  eyes  shifted  slowly,  and  then  they  rested  on  the 
scarp  of  the  ridge  that  shut  out  his  vision.  His 
heart  gave  a  sudden  thump  in  his  body.  His  pipe 
fell  from  his  mouth  to  his  hand;  and  he  stared  with- 
out moving,  stared  like  a  thing  of  rock. 

On  a  flat  sunlit  shelf  not  more  than  eighty  or  ninety 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  291 

yards  away  stood  a  young  black  bear.  In  the  warm 
glow  of  the  sunlight  the  bear's  spring  coat  shone 
like  polished  jet.  But  it  was  not  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  the  bear  that  amazed  Meshaba.  It  was  the 
fact  that  another  animal  was  standing  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  Wakayoo,  and  that  it  was  not  a  brother 
bear,  but  a  huge  wolf.  Slowly  one  of  his  thin  hands 
rose  to  his  eyes  and  he  wiped  away  what  he  thought 
must  surely  be  a  strange  something  that  was  fooling 
his  vision.  In  all  his  eighty  years  and  odd  he  had 
never  known  a  wolf  to  be  thus  friendly  with  a  bear. 
Nature  had  made  them  enemies.  Nature  had  fore- 
doomed their  hatred  to  be  the  deepest  hatred  of  the 
forests.  Therefore,  for  a  space,  Meshaba  doubted 
his  eyes.  But  in  another  moment  he  saw  that  the 
miracle  had  truly  come  to  pass.  For  the  wolf  turned 
broadside  to  him  and  it  was  a  wolf!  A  huge,  big- 
boned  beast  that  stood  as  high  at  the  shoulders  as 
Wakayoo,  the  bear;  a  great  beast,  with  a  great  head, 

and 

It  was  then  that  Meshaba's  heart  gave  another 
thump,  for  the  tail  of  a  wolf  is  big  and  bushy  in  the 
springtime,  and  the  tail  of  this  beast  was  as  bare  of 
hair  as  a  beaver's  tail! 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

"Ohne  mooshl"  gasped  Meshaba,  under  his 
breath— "a  dog!" 

He  seemed  to  draw  slowly  into  himself,  slinking 
backward.  His  rifle  stood  just  out  of  reach  on  the 
other  side  of  the  rock. 

At  the  other  end  of  that  eighty  or  ninety  yards 
Neewa  and  Miki  stood  blinking  in  the  bright  sun- 
light, with  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  in  which  Neewa 
had  slept  so  many  months  just  behind  them.  Miki 
was  puzzled.  Again  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was 
only  yesterday,  and  not  months  ago,  that  he  had 
left  Neewa  in  that  den,  sleeping  his  lazy  head  off. 
And  now  that  he  had  returned  to  him  after  his  own 
hard  winter  in  the  forests  he  was  astonished  to  find 
Neewa  so  big.  For  Neewa  had  grown  steadily 
through  his  four  months'  nap  and  he  was  half  again 
as  big  as  when  he  went  to  sleep.  Could  Miki 
have  spoken  Cree,  and  had  Meshaba  given  him 
the  opportunity,  he  might  have  explained  the  situa- 
tion. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Indian" — he  might  have  said — 
"this  dub  of  a  bear  and  I  have  been  pals  from  just 
about  the  time  we  were  born.  A  man  named  Chal- 
loner  tied  us  together  first  when  Neewa,  there,  was 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  293 

just  about  as  big  as  your  head,  and  we  did  a  lot  of 
scrapping  before  we  got  properly  acquainted.  Then 
we  got  lost,  and  after  that  we  hitched  up  like  brothers; 
and  we  had  a  lot  of  fun  and  excitement  all  through 
last  summer,  until  at  last,  when  the  cold  weather 
came,  Neewa  hunted  up  this  hole  in  the  ground  and 
the  lazy  cuss  went  to  sleep  for  all  winter.  I  won't 
mention  what  happened  to  me  during  the  winter. 
It  was  a-plenty.  So  this  spring  I  had  a  hunch  it  was 
about  time  for  Neewa  to  get  the  cobwebs  out  of  his 
fool  head,  and  came  back.  And — here  we  are! 
But  tell  me  this:  What  makes  Neewa  so  big  ?" 

It  was  at  least  that  thought — the  bigness  of  Neewa 
— that  was  filling  Miki's  head  at  the  present  moment. 
And  Meshaba,  in  place  of  listening  to  an  explanation, 
was  reaching  for  his  rifle — while  Neewa,  with  his 
brown  muzzle  sniffing  the  wind,  was  gathering  in 
a  strange  smell.  Of  the  three,  Neewa  saw  nothing 
to  be  wondered  at  in  the  situation  itself.  When  he 
had  gone  to  sleep  four  and  a  half  months  ago  Miki 
was  at  his  side;  and  to-day,  when  he  awoke,  Miki 
was  still  at  his  side.  The  four  and  a  half  months 
meant  nothing  to  him.  Many  times  he  and  Miki 
had  gone  to  sleep,  and  had  awakened  together.  For 


294  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

all  the  knowledge  he  had  of  time  it  might  have  been 
only  last  night  that  he  had  fallen  asleep. 

The  one  thing  that  made  Neewa  uneasy  now  was 
that  strange  odour  he  had  caught  in  the  air.  In- 
stinctively he  seized  upon  it  as  a  menace — at  least 
as  something  that  he  would  rather  not  smell  than 
smell.  So  he  turned  away  with  a  warning  woof 
to  Miki.  When  Meshaba  peered  around  the  edge 
of  the  rock,  expecting  an  easy  shot,  he  caught  only 
a  flash  of  the  two  as  they  were  disappearing.  He 
fired  quickly. 

To  Miki  and  Neewa  the  report  of  the  rifle  and  the 
moaning  whirr  of  the  bullet  over  their  backs  recalled 
memories  of  a  host  of  things,  and  Neewa  settled 
down  to  that  hump-backed,  flat-eared  flight  of  his 
that  kept  Miki  pegging  along  at  a  brisk  pace  for  at 
least  a  mile.  Then  Neewa  stopped,  puffing  audibly. 
Inasmuch  as  he  had  had  nothing  to  eat  for  a  third 
of  a  year,  and  was  weak  from  long  inactivity,  the 
run  came  within  an  ace  of  putting  him  out  of  busi- 
ness. It  was  several  minutes  before  he  could  gather 
his  wind  sufficiently  to  grunt.  Miki,  meanwhile, 
was  carefully  smelling  of  him  from  his  rump  to  his 
muzzle.  There  was  apparently  nothing  missing, 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  295 

for  he  gave  a  delighted  little  yap  at  the  end,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  size  and  the  dignity  of  increased  age,  he 
began  frisking  about  Neewa  in  a  manner  emphatically 
expressive  of  his  joy  at  his  comrade's  awakening. 

"It's  been  a  deuce  of  a  lonely  winter,  Neewa,  and 
I'm  tickled  to  death  to  see  you  on  your  feet  again,'" 
his  antics  said.  "What'll  we  do?  Go  for  a  hunt?" 

This  seemed  to  be  the  thought  in  Neewa's  mind, 
for  he  headed  straight  up  the  valley  until  they  came 
to  an  open  fen  where  he  proceeded  to  quest  about 
for  a  dinner  of  roots  and  grass;  and  as  he  searched 
he  grunted — grunted  in  his  old,  companionable, 
cubbish  way.  And  Miki,  hunting  with  him,  found 
that  once  more  the  loneliness  had  gone  out  of  his 
world. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 

TO MIKI and Neewa,  especially  Neewa,  there 
seemed  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  fact 
that  they  were  together  again,  and  that  their 
comradeship  was  resumed.  Although  during  his 
months  of  hibernation  Neewa's  body  had  grown, 
his  mind  had  not  changed  its  memories  or  its  pic- 
tures. It  had  not  passed  through  a  mess  of  stirring 
events  such  as  had  made  the  winter  a  thrilling  one 
for  Miki,  and  so  it  was  Neewa  who  accepted  the  new 
situation  most  casually.  He  went  on  feeding  as  if 
nothing  at  all  unusual  had  happened  during  the  past 
four  months,  and  after  the  edge  had  gone  from  his 
first  hunger  he  fell  into  his  old  habit  of  looking  to 
Miki  for  leadership.  And  Miki  fell  into  the  old 
ways  as  though  only  a  day  or  a  week  and  not  four 
months  had  lapsed  in  their  brotherhood.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  he  tried  mightily  to  tell  Neewa  what  had 
happened.  At  least  he  must  have  had  that  desire — 
to  let  him  know  in  what  a  strange  way  he  had  found 

296 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  297 

his  old  master,  Challoner,  and  how  he  had  lost  him 
again.  And  also  how  he  found  the  woman,  Nanette, 
and  the  little  baby  Nanette,  and  how  for  a  long  time 
he  had  lived  with  them  and  loved  them  as  he  had 
never  loved  anything  else  on  earth. 

It  was  the  old  cabin,  far  to  the  north  and  east,  that 
drew  him  now — the  cabin  in  which  Nanette  and  the 
baby  had  lived;  and  it  was  toward  this  cabin  that  he 
lured  Neewa  during  the  first  two  weeks  of  their 
hunting.  They  did  not  travel  quickly,  largely  be- 
cause of  Neewa's  voracious  spring  appetite  and  the 
fact  that  it  consumed  nine  tenths  of  his  waking  hours 
to  keep  full  on  such  provender  as  roots  and  swelling 
buds  and  grass.  During  the  first  week  Mild  grew 
either  hopeless  or  disgusted  in  his  hunting.  One 
day  he  killed  five  rabbits  and  Neewa  ate  four  of  them 
and  grunted  piggishly  for  more. 

If  Miki  had  stood  amazed  and  appalled  at  Neewa's 
appetite  in  the  days  of  their  cubhood  and  puppy- 
hood  a  year  ago,  he  was  more  than  astounded  now, 
for  in  the  matter  of  food  Neewa  was  a  bottomless  pit. 
On  the  other  hand  he  was  jollier  than  ever,  and  in 
their  wrestling  matches  he  was  almost  more  than  a 
match  for  Miki,  being  nearly  again  as  heavy.  He 


298  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

very  soon  acquired  the  habit  of  taking  advantage  oi 
this  superiority  of  weight,  and  at  unexpected  mo- 
ments he  would  hop  on  Miki  and  pin  him  to  the 
ground,  his  fat  body  smothering  him  like  a  huge  soft 
cushion,  and  his  arms  holding  him  until  at  times  Miki 
could  scarcely  squirm.  Now  and  then,  hugging 
him  in  this  embrace,  he  would  roll  over  and  over,  both 
of  them  snarling  and  growling  as  though  in  deadly 
combat.  This  play,  though  he  was  literally  the 
under  dog,  delighted  Miki  until  one  day  they  rolled 
over  the  edge  of  a  deep  ravine  and  crashed  in  a  dog- 
fand-bear  avalanche  to  the  bottom.  After  that,  for 
a  long  time,  Neewa  did  not  roll  with  his  victim. 
Whenever  Miki  wanted  to  end  a  bout,  however,  all 
he  had  to  do  was  to  give  Neewa  a  sharp  nip  with  his 
long  fangs  and  the  bear  would  uncoil  himself  and  hop 
to  his  feet  like  a  spring.  He  had  a  most  serious  respect 
for  Miki's  teeth. 

But  Miki's  greatest  moments  of  joy  were  where 
Neewa  stood  up  man-fashion.  Then  was  a  real  tussle. 
And  his  greatest  hours  of  disgust  were  when  Neewa 
stretched  himself  out  in  a  tree  for  a  nap. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  third  week  before  they 
came  one  day  to  the  cabin.  There  was  no  change  in 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  299 

it,  and  Miki's  body  sagged  disconsolately  as  he  and 
Neewa  looked  at  it  from  the  edge  of  the  clearing. 
No  smoke,  no  sign  of  life,  and  the  window  was 
broken  now — probably  by  an  inquisitive  bear  or  a 
wolverine.  Miki  went  to  the  window  and  stood 
up  to  it,  sniffing  inside.  The  smell  was  still  there — so 
faint  that  he  could  only  just  detect  it.  But  that 
was  all.  The  big  room  was  empty  except  for  the 
stove,  a  table  and  a  few  bits  of  rude  furniture.  All 
else  was  gone.  Three  or  four  times  during  the 
next  half  hour  Miki  stood  up  at  the  window,  and  at 
last  Neewa — urged  by  his  curiosity — did  likewise. 
He  also  detected  the  faint  odour  that  was  left  in  the 
cabin.  He  sniffed  at  it  for  a  long  time.  It  was  like 
the  smell  he  had  caught  the  day  he  came  out  of  his 
den — and  yet  different.  It  was  fainter,  more 
elusive,  and  not  so  unpleasant. 

For  a  month  thereafter  Miki  insisted  on  hunting  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  cabin,  held  there  by  the  "pull" 
of  the  thing  which  he  could  neither  analyze  nor  quite 
understand.  Neewa  accepted  the  situation  good- 
naturedly  for  a  time.  Then  he  lost  patience  and 
surrendered  himself  to  a  grouch  for  three  whole 
days  during  which  he  wandered  at  his  own  sweet 


300  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

will.  To  preserve  the  alliance  Miki  was  com- 
pelled to  follow  him.  Berry  time — early  July — 
found  them  sixty  miles  north  and  west  of  the  cabin, 
in  the  edge  of  the  country  where  Neewa  was  born. 
But  there  were  few  berries  that  summer  of  bebe  nak 
um  geda  (the  summer  of  drought  and  fire).  As 
early  as  the  middle  of  July  a  thin,  gray  film  began 
to  hover  in  palpitating  waves  over  the  forests. 
For  three  weeks  there  had  been  no  rain.  Even  the 
nights  were  hot  and  dry.  Each  day  the  factors  at 
their  posts  looked  out  with  anxious  eyes  over  their 
domains,  and  by  the  first  of  August  every  post  had  a 
score  of  halfbreeds  and  Indians  patrolling  the  trails 
on  the  watch  for  fire.  In  their  cabins  and  teepees 
the  forest  dwellers  who  had  not  gone  to  pass  the 
summer  at  the  posts  waited  and  watched;  each  morn- 
ing and  noon  and  night  they  climbed  tall  trees  and 
peered  through  that  palpitating  gray  film  for  a  sign 
of  smoke.  For  weeks  the  wind  came  steadily  from 
the  south  and  west,  parched  as  though  swept  over 
the  burning  sands  of  a  desert.  Berries  dried  up  on 
the  bushes;  the  fruit  of  the  mountain  ash  shriveled 
on  its  stems;  creeks  ran  dry;  swamps  turned  into 
baked  peat,  and  the  poplar  leaves  hung  wilted  and 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  301 

lifeless,  too  limp  to  rustle  in  the  breeze.  Only  once 
or  twice  in  a  lifetime  does  the  forest  dweller  see 
poplar  leaves  curl  up  and  die  like  that,  baked  to 
death  in  the  summer  sun.  It  is  Kiskewahoon  (the 
Danger  Signal).  Not  only  the  warning  of  possible 
death  in  a  holocaust  of  fire,  but  the  omen  of  poor 
hunting  and  trapping  in  the  winter  to  come. 

Miki  and  Neewa  were  in  a  swamp  country  when 
the  fifth  of  August  came.  In  the  lowland  it  was 
sweltering.  Neewa's  tongue  hung  from  his  mouth, 
and  Miki  was  panting  as  they  made  their  way  along  a 
black  and  sluggish  stream  that  was  like  a  great  ditch 
and  as  dead  as  the  day  itself.  There  was  no  visible 
sun,  but  a  red  and  lurid  glow  filled  the  sky — the 
sun  struggling  to  fight  its  way  through  the  smothering 
film  that  had  grown  thicker  over  the  earth.  Because 
they  were  in  a  "pocket" — a  sweep  of  tangled  coun- 
try lower  than  the  surrounding  country — Neewa 
and  Miki  were  not  caught  in  this  blackening  cloud. 
Five  miles  away  they  might  have  heard  the  thunder 
of  cloven  hoofs  and  the  crash  of  heavy  bodies  in 
their  flight  before  the  deadly  menace  of  fire.  As  it 
was  they  made  their  way  slowly  through  the  parched 
swamp,  so  that  it  was  midday  when  they  came  out  of 


302  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

the  edge  of  it  and  up  through  a  green  fringe  of  timber 
to  the  top  of  a  ridge.  Before  this  hour  neither  had 
passed  through  the  horror  of  a  forest  fire.  But 
it  seized  upon  them  now.  It  needed  no  past  exper- 
ience. The  cumulative  instinct  of  a  thousand  gen- 
erations leapt  through  their  brains  and  bodies. 
Their  world  was  in  the  grip  of  Iskootao  (the  Fire 
Devil).  To  the  south  and  the  east  and  the  west  it 
was  buried  in  a  pall  like  the  darkness  of  night,  and 
out  of  the  far  edge  of  the  swamp  through  which  they 
had  come  they  caught  the  first  livid  spurts  of  flame. 
From  that  direction,  now  that  they  were  out  of  the 
"pocket,"  they  felt  a  hot  wind,  and  with  that  wind 
came  a  dull  and  rumbling  roar  that  was  like  the  dis- 
tant moaning  of  a  cataract.  They  waited,  and 
watched,  struggling  to  get  their  bearings,  their 
minds  fighting  for  a  few  moments  in  the  gigantic 
process  of  changing  instinct  into  reasoning  and 
understanding.  Neewa,  being  a  bear,  was  afflicted 
with  the  near-sightedness  of  his  breed,  and  he  could 
see  neither  the  black  tornado  of  smoke  bearing  down 
upon  them  nor  the  flames  leaping  out  of  the  swamp. 
But  he  could  smell,  and  his  nose  was  twisted  into 
a  hundred  wrinkles,  and  even  ahead  of  Miki  he  was 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  303 

ready  for  flight.  But  Miki,  whose  vision  was  like 
a  hawk's,  stood  as  if  fascinated. 

The  roaring  grew  more  distinct.  It  seemed  on 
all  sides  of  them.  But  it  was  from  the  south  that 
there  came  the  first  storm  of  ash  rushing  noiselessly 
ahead  of  the  fire,  and  after  that  the  smoke.  It  was 
then  that  Miki  turned  with  a  strange  whine  but  it 
was  Neewa  now  who  took  the  lead — Neewa,  whose 
forebears  had  ten  thousand  times  run  this  same  wild 
race  with  death  in  the  centuries  since  their  world  was 
born.  He  did  not  need  the  keenness  of  far  vision 
now.  He  knew.  He  knew  what  was  behind,  and 
what  was  on  either  side,  and  where  the  one  trail  to 
safety  lay;  and  in  the  air  he  felt  and  smelled  the 
thing  that  was  death.  Twice  Miki  made  efforts  to 
swing  their  course  into  the  east,  but  Neewa  would 
have  none  of  it.  With  flattened  ears  he  went  on  north. 
Three  times  Miki  stopped  to  turn  and  face  the  gallop- 
ing menace  behind  them,  but  never  for  an  instant  did 
Neewa  pause.  Straight  on — north,  north,  north — north 
to  the  higher  lands,  the  big  waters,  the  open  plains. 

They  were  not  alone.  A  caribou  sped  past  them 
with  the  swiftness  of  the  wind  itself.  "Fast)  fast, 
fast!'9 — Neewa's  instinct  cried;  "but — endure!  For 


304  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

the  caribou,  speeding  even  faster  than  the  fire,  will 
fall  of  exhaustion  shortly  and  be  eaten  up  by  the 
flames.  Fast — but  endure!" 

And  steadily,  stoically,  at  his  loping  gait  Neewa 
led  on. 

A  bull  moose  swung  half  across  their  trail  from  the 
west,  wind-gone  and  panting  as  though  his  throat 
were  cut.  He  was  badly  burned,  and  running  blindly 
into  the  eastern  wall  of  fire. 

Behind  and  on  either  side,  where  the  flames  were 
rushing  on  with  the  pitiless  ferocity  of  hunnish  regi- 
ments, the  harvest  of  death  was  a  vast  and  shudder- 
ing reality.  In  hollow  logs,  under  windfalls,  in  the 
thick  tree-tops,  and  in  the  earth  itself,  the  smaller 
things  of  the  wilderness  sought  their  refuge — and  died. 
Rabbits  became  leaping  balls  of  flame,  then  lay 
shrivelled  and  black;  the  marten  were  baked  in  their 
trees;  fishers  and  mink  and  ermine  crawled  into  the 
deepest  corners  of  the  windfalls  and  died  there  by 
inches;  owls  fluttered  out  of  their  tree-tops,  stag- 
gered for  a  few  moments  in  the  fiery  air,  and  fell 
down  into  the  heart  of  the  flame.  No  creature  made 
a  sound — except  the  porcupines;  and  as  they  died 
they  cried  like  little  children. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  305 

In  the  green  spruce  and  cedar  timber,  heavy  with 
the  pitch  that  made  their  thick  tops  spurt  into 
flame  like  a  sea  of  explosive,  the  fire  rushed  on  with 
a  tremendous  roar.  From  it — in  a  straight  race- 
there  was  no  escape  for  man  or  beast.  Out  of  that 
world  of  conflagration  there  might  have  risen  one 
great,  yearning  cry  to  heaven:  Water — Water — 
WATER!  Wherever  there  was  water  there  was 
also  hope — and  life.  Breed  and  blood  and  wilder- 
ness feuds  were  forgotten  in  the  great  hour  of  peril. 
Every  lake  became  a  haven  of  refuge. 

To  such  a  lake  came  Neewa,  guided  by  an  uner- 
ring instinct  and  sense  of  smell  sharpened  by  the 
rumble  and  roar  of  the  storm  of  fire  behind  him. 
Miki  had  "lost"  himself J  his  senses  were  dulled; 
his  nostrils  caught  no  scent  but  that  of  a  world  in 
flames — so,  blindly,  he  followed  his  comrade.  The 
fire  was  enveloping  the  lake  along  its  western  shore, 
and  its  water  was  already  thickly  tenanted.  It 
was  not  a  large  lake,  and  almost  round.  Its  diame- 
ter was  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards.  Far- 
ther out — a  few  of  them  swimming,  but  most  of  them 
standing  on  bottom  with  only  their  heads  out  of 
water — were  a  score  of  caribou  and  moose.  Many 


306  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

other  shorter-legged  creatures  were  swimming  aim- 
lessly, turning  this  way  and  that,  paddling  their 
feet  only  enough  to  keep  afloat.  On  the  shore  where 
Neewa  and  Miki  paused  was  a  huge  porcupine, 
chattering  and  chuckling  foolishly,  as  if  scolding  all 
things  in  general  for  having  disturbed  him  at  dinner. 
Then  he  took  to  the  water.  A  little  farther  up  the 
shore  a  fisher-cat  and  a  fox  hugged  close  to  the  water 
line,  hesitating  to  wet  their  precious  fur  until  death 
itself  snapped  at  their  heels;  and  as  if  to  bring  fresh 
news  of  this  death  a  second  fox  dragged  himself 
wearily  out  on  the  shore,  as  limp  as  a  wet  rag  after 
his  swim  from  the  opposite  shore,  where  the  fire  was 
already  leaping  in  a  wall  of  flame.  And  as  this  fox 
swam  in,  hoping  to  find  safety,  an  old  bear  twice  as 
big  as  Neewa,  crashed  panting  from  the  undergrowth, 
plunged  into  the  water,  and  swam  out.  Smaller 
things  were  creeping  and  crawling  and  slinking  along 
the  shore;  little  red-eyed  ermine,  marten,  and  mink, 
rabbits,  squirrels,  and  squeaking  gophers,  and  a 
horde  of  mice.  And  at  last,  with  these  things  which 
he  would  have  devoured  so  greedily  running  about 
him,  Neewa  waded  slowly  out  into  the  water. 

Miki  followed    until    he    was  submerged  to  his 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  307 

shoulders.  Then  he  stopped.  The  fire  was  close 
now,  advancing  like  a  race-horse.  Over  the  pro- 
tecting barrier  of  thick  timber  drove  the  clouds  of 
smoke  and  ash.  Swiftly  the  lake  became  obliter- 
ated, and  now  out  of  that  awful  chaos  of  blackness 
and  smoke  and  heat  there  rose  strange  and  thrilling 
cries;  the  bleating  of  a  moose  calf  that  was  doomed 
to  die  and  the  bellowing,  terror-filled  response  of  its 
mother;  the  agonized  howling  of  a  wolf;  the  terrified 
barking  of  a  fox,  and  over  all  else  the  horrible  scream- 
ing of  a  pair  of  loons  whose  home  had  been  trans- 
formed into  a  sea  of  flame. 

Through  the  thickening  smoke  and  increasing 
heat  Neewa  gave  his  call  to  Miki  as  he  began  to 
swim,  and  with  an  answering  whine  Miki  plunged 
after  him,  swimming  so  close  to  his  big  black  brother 
that  his  muzzle  touched  the  other's  flank.  In  mid- 
lake  Neewa  did  as  the  other  swimming  creatures  were 
doing — paddled  only  enough  to  keep  himself  afloat; 
but  for  Miki,  big  of  bone  and  unassisted  by  a  life- 
preserver  of  fat,  the  struggle  was  not  so  easy.  He 
was  forced  to  swim  to  keep  afloat.  A  dozen  times  he 
circled  around  Neewa,  and  then,  with  something 
of  the  situation  driven  upon  him,  he  came  up 


308  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

close  to  the  bear  and  rested  his  f orepaws  on  his 
shoulders. 

The  lake  was  now  encircled  by  a  solid  wall  of 
fire.  Blasts  of  flame  shot  up  the  pitch-laden  trees 
and  leapt  for  fifty  feet  into  the  blistering  air.  The 
roar  of  the  conflagration  was  deafening.  It  drowned 
all  sound  that  brute  agony  and  death  may  have 
made.  And  its  heat  was  terrific.  For  a  few  terrible 
minutes  the  air  which  Miki  drew  into  his  lungs  was 
like  fire  itself.  Neewa  plunged  his  head  under  water 
every  few  seconds,  but  it  was  not  Miki's  instinct 
to  do  this.  Like  the  wolf  and  the  fox  and  the  fisher- 
cat  and  the  lynx  it  was  his  nature  to  die  before  com- 
pletely submerging  himself. 

Swift  as  it  had  come  the  fire  passed;  and  the  walls 
of  timber  that  had  been  green  a  few  moments  before 
were  black  and  shrivelled  and  dead;  and  sound  swept 
on  with  the  flame  until  it  became  once  more  only  a 
low  and  rumbling  murmur. 

•  •  ••» 

To  the  black  and  smouldering  shores  the  live  things 
slowly  made  their  way.  Of  all  the  creatures  that 
had  taken  refuge  in  the  lake  many  had  died.  Chief 
of  those  were  the  porcupines.  All  had  drowned. 

Close  to  the  shore  the  heat  was  still  intense,  and  for 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  309 

hours  the  earth  was  hot  with  smouldering  fire.  All 
the  rest  of  that  day  and  the  night  that  followed  no 
living  thing  moved  out  of  the  shallow  water.  And 
yet  no  living  thing  thought  to  prey  upon  its  neigh- 
bour. The  great  peril  had  made  of  all  beasts  kin. 

A  little  before  dawn  of  the  day  following  the  fire 
relief  came.  A  deluge  of  rain  fell,  and  when  day 
broke  and  the  sun  shone  through  a  murky  heaven 
there  was  left  no  sign  of  what  the  lake  had  been, 
except  for  the  dead  bodies  that  floated  on  its  surface 
or  lined  its  shores.  The  living  things  had  returned 
into  then*  desolated  wilderness — and  among  them 
Neewa  and  Miki. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX 

FOR  many  days  after  the  Great  Fire  it  was 
Neewa  who  took  the  lead.  All  their  world 
was  a  black  and  lifeless  desolation  and  Miki 
would  not  have  known  which  way  to  turn.  Had  it 
been  a  local  fire  of  small  extent  he  would  have 
"wandered"  out  of  its  charred  path.^  But  the 
conflagration  had  been  immense.  It  had  swept 
over  a  vast  reach  of  country,  and  for  a  half  of  the 
creatures  who  had  saved  themselves  in  the  lakes 
and  streams  there  was  only  a  death  by  starvation 
left. 

But  not  for  Neewa  and  his  breed.  Just  as  there 
had  been  no  indecision  in  the  manner  and  direction 
of  his  flight  before  the  fire  so  there  was  now  no  hesita- 
tion in  the  direction  he  chose  to  seek  a  live  world 
again.  It  was  due  north  and  west — as  straight  as  a 
die.  If  they  came  to  a  lake,  and  went  around 
it,  Neewa  would  always  follow  the  shore  until  he 

came  directly  opposite  his  trail  on  the  other  side 

310 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  311 

of  the  lake — and  then  strike  north  and  west  again. 
He  travelled  steadily,  not  only  by  day  but  also  by 
night,  with  only  short  intervals  of  rest,  and  the 
dawning  of  the  second  morning  found  Miki  more 
exhausted  than  the  bear. 

There  were  many  evidences  now  that  they  had 
reached  a  point  where  the  fire  had  begun  to  burn 
itself  out.  Patches  of  green  timber  were  left  stand- 
ing, there  were  swamps  unscathed  by  the  flames, 
and  here  and  there  they  came  upon  green  patches 
of  meadow.  In  the  swamps  and  timber  they  feasted, 
for  these  oases  in  what  had  been  a  sea  of  flame  were 
filled  with  food  ready  to  be  preyed  upon  and  de- 
voured. For  the  first  time  Neewa  refused  to  stop 
because  there  was  plenty  to  eat.  The  sixth  day 
they  were  a  hundred  miles  from  the  lake  in  which 
they  had  sought  refuge  from  the  fire. 

It  was  a  wonderful  country  of  green  timber,  of 
wide  plains  and  of  many  lakes  and  streams — cut 
up  by  a  thousand  usayow  (low  ridges),  which  made 
the  best  of  hunting.  Because  it  was  a  country  of 
many  waters,  with  live  streams  running  between 
the  ridges  and  from  lake  to  lake,  it  had  not  suffered 
from  the  drought  like  the  country  farther  south. 


312  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

For  a  month  Neewa  and  Miki  hunted  in  their  new 
paradise,  and  became  fat  and  happy  again. 

It  was  in  September  that  they  came  upon  a  strange 
thing  in  the  edge  of  a  swamp.  At  first  Miki  thought 
that  it  was  a  cabin;  but  it  was  a  great  deal  smaller 
than  any  cabin  he  had  known.  It  was  not  much 
larger  than  the  cage  of  saplings  in  which  Le  Beau 
had  kept  him.  But  it  was  made  of  heavy  logs, 
and  the  logs  were  notched  so  that  nothing  could 
knock  them  down.  And  these  logs,  instead  of 
lying  closely  one  on  the  other,  had  open  spaces  six 
or  eight  inches  wide  between  them.  And  tkere  was 
a  wide-open  door.  From  this  strange  contraption 
there  came  a  strong  odour  of  over-ripened  fish.  The 
smell  repelled  Miki.  But  it  was  a  powerful  attraction 
to  Neewa,  who  persisted  in  remaining  near  it  in 
spite  of  all  Miki  could  do  to  drag  him  away.  Finally, 
disgusted  at  his  comrade's  bad  taste,  Mild  sulked 
off  alone  to  hunt.  It  was  some  time  after  that  be- 
fore Neewa  dared  to  thrust  his  head  and  shoulders 
through  the  opening.  The  smell  of  the  fish  made 
his  little  eyes  gleam.  Cautiously  he  stepped  inside 
the  queer  looking  thing  of  logs.  Nothing  happened. 
He  saw  the  fish,  all  he  could  eat,  just  on  the  other 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  313 

side  of  a  sapling  against  which  he  must  lean  to  reach 
them.  He  went  deliberately  to  the  sapling,  leaned 
over,  and  then! 

"Crash!" 

He  whirled  about  as  if  shot.  There  was  no  longer 
an  opening  where  he  had  entered.  The  sapling 
"trigger"  had  released  an  over-head  door,  and  Neewa 
was  a  prisoner.  He  was  not  excited,  but  accepted 
the  situation  quite  coolly,  probably  having  no  doubt 
in  his  mind  that  somewhere  there  was  an  aperture 
between  the  logs  large  enough  for  him  to  squeeze 
through.  After  a  few  inquisitive  sniffs  he  proceeded 
to  devour  the  fish.  He  was  absorbed  in  his  odorifer- 
ous feast  when  out  of  a  clump  of  dwarf  balsams  a 
few  yards  away  appeared  an  Indian.  He  quickly 
took  in  the  situation,  turned,  and  disappeared. 

Half  an  hour  later  this  Indian  ran  into  a  clearing 
in  which  were  the  recently  constructed  buildings  of  a 
new  Post.  He  made  for  the  Company  store.  In 
the  fur-carpeted  "office"  of  this  store  a  man  was 
bending  fondly  over  a  woman.  The  Indian  saw 
them  as  he  entered,  and  chuckled.  "Sakehewawin  " 
("the  love  couple");  that  was  what  they  had  already 
come  to  call  them  at  Post  Lac  Bain — this  man  and 


314  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

woman  who  had  given  them  a  great  feast  when  the 
missioner  had  married  them  not  so  very  long  ago. 
The  man  and  the  woman  stood  up  when  the  Indian 
entered,  and  the  woman  smiled  at  him.  She  was 
beautiful.  Her  eyes  were  glowing,  and  there  was 
the  flush  of  a  flower  in  her  cheeks.  The  Indian  felt 
the  worship  of  her  warm  in  his  heart. 

"Oo-ee,  we  have  caught  the  bear,"  he  said.  "But 
it  is  napoo  (a  he-bear).  There  is  no  cub,  IsJcwao 
Nanette!" 

The  white  man  chuckled. 

"Aren't  we  having  the  darndest  luck  getting  you 
a  cub  for  a  house-pet,  Nanette?"  he  asked.  "I'd 
have  sworn  this  mother  and  her  cub  would  have 
been  easily  caught.  A  he-bear!  We'll  have  to  let 
him  loose,  Mootag.  His  pelt  is  good  for  nothing. 
Do  you  want  to  go  with  us  and  see  the  fun,  Nanette?  " 

She  nodded,  her  little  laugh  filled  with  the  joy  of 
love  and  life. 

"Oui.    It  will  be  such  fun — to  see  him  go!" 

Challoner  led  the  way,  with  an  axe  in  his  hand; 
and  with  him  came  Nanette,  her  hand  in  his.  Moo- 
tag  followed  with  his  rifle,  prepared  for  an  emer- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  315 

gency.  From  the  thick  screen  of  balsams  Chal- 
loner  peered  forth,  then  made  a  hole  through  which 
Nanette  might  look  at  the  cage  and  its  prisoner. 
For  a  moment  or  two  she  held  her  breath  as  she 
watched  Neewa  pacing  back  and  forth,  very  much 
excited  now.  Then  she  gave  a  little  cry,  and  Chal- 
loner  felt  her  fingers  pinch  his  own  sharply.  Before 
he  knew  what  she  was  about  to  do  she  had  thrust 
herself  through  the  screen  of  balsams. 

Close  to  the  log  prison,  faithful  to  his  comrade  in 
the  hour  of  peril,  lay  Miki.  He  was  exhausted  from 
digging  at  the  earth  under  the  lower  log,  and  he  had 
not  smelled  or  heard  anything  of  the  presence  of  others 
until  he  saw  Nanette  standing  not  twenty  paces 
away.  His  heart  leapt  up  into  his  panting  throat. 
He  swallowed,  as  though  to  get  rid  of  a  great  lump; 
he  stared.  And  then,  with  a  sudden,  yearning  whine, 
he  sprang  toward  her.  With  a  yell  Challoner  leapt 
out  of  the  balsams  with  uplifted  axe.  But  before 
the  axe  could  fall,  Miki  was  in  Nanette's  arms,  and 
Challoner  dropped  his  weapon  with  a  gasp  of  amaze- 
ment— and  one  word: 

"MIKI!  " 

Mootag,  looking  on  in  stupid  astonishment,  saw 


316  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

both  the  man  and  the  woman  making  a  great  fuss 
over  a  strange  and  wild-looking  beast  that  looked  as 
if  it  ought  to  be  killed.  They  had  forgotten  the 
bear.  And  Miki,  wildly  joyous  at  finding  his  be- 
loved master  and  mistress,  had  forgotten  him  also. 
It  was  a  prodigious  whoof  from  Neewa  himself  that 
brought  their  attention  to  him.  Like  a  flash  Miki 
was  back  at  the  pen  smelling  of  Neewa's  snout  be- 
tween two  of  the  logs,  and  with  a  great  wagging 
of  tail  trying  to  make  him  understand  what  had 
happened. 

Slowly,  with  a  thought  born  in  his  head  that  made 
him  oblivious  of  all  else  but  the  big  black  brute  in 
the  pen,  Challoner  approached  the  trap.  Was  it 
possible  that  Miki  could  have  made  friends  with 
any  other  bear  than  the  cub  of  long  ago?  He  drew 
in  a  deep  breath  as  he  looked  at  them.  Neewa's 
brown-tipped  nose  was  thrust  between  two  of  the 
logs  and  Miki  was  licking  it  mtk  his  tongue!  He 
held  out  a  hand  to  Nanette,  and  when  she  came  to 
him  he  pointed  for  a  space,  without  speaking. 

Then  he  said: 

"It  is  the  cub,  Nanette.  You  know — the  cub  I 
have  told  you  about.  They've  stuck  together  all 


NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH  317 

this  time — ever  since  I  killed  the  cub's  mother  a 
year  and  a  half  ago,  and  tied  them  together  on  a 
piece  of  rope.  I  understand  now  why  Miki  ran 
away  from  us  when  we  were  at  the  cabin.  He  went 
back — to  the  bear." 

To-day  if  you  strike  northward  from  Le  Pas  and 
put  your  canoe  in  the  Rat  River  or  Grassberry 
waterways,  and  thence  paddle  and  run  with  the 
current  down  the  Reindeer  River  and  along  the  east 
shore  of  Reindeer  Lake  you  will  ultimately  come  to 
the  Cochrane — and  Post  Lac  Bain.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  wonderful  countries  in  all  the  northland. 
Three  hundred  Indians,  breeds  and  French,  come 
with  their  furs  to  Lac  Bain.  Not  a  soul  among  them 
—man,  woman,  or  child — but  knows  the  story  of  the 
"tame  bear  of  Lac  Bain" — the  pet  of  Pange,  the 
white  angel,  the  Factor's  wife. 

The  bear  wears  a  shining  collar  and  roams  at  will 
in  the  company  of  a  great  dog,  but,  having  grown 
huge  and  fat  now,  never  wanders  far  from  the  Post. 
And  it  is  an  unwritten  law  in  all  that  country  that 
the  animal  must  not  be  harmed,  and  that  no  bear 
traps  shall  be  set  within  five  miles  of  the  Company 


318  NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

buildings.  Beyond  that  limit  the  bear  never  roams; 
and  when  it  comes  cold,  and  he  goes  into  his  long 
sleep,  he  crawls  into  a  deep  warm  cavern  that  has 
been  dug  for  him  under  the  Company  storehouse. 
And  with  him,  when  the  nights  come,  sleeps  Miki 
the  dog. 


THE  END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


NQV  l  1  i 


LD  2lA-60m-3,'65 
(F2336slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


